Relationship Matters
by InSilva
Summary: If Danny and Rusty don’t meet, does it matter? And if it matters, does it matter when they meet? In progress.
1. Prologue and Meeting

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: I don't own. I only borrow.

Summary: If Danny and Rusty don't meet, does it matter? And if it matters, does it matter when they meet?

A/N: oh, in my head since about December. Had the working title of Advent Swirl. Which made it sound like a rather nice hazelnut option in a box of chocolates. Hmm. Probably not. And there is a little weirdness within that has slight Pratchettian echoes in my head. Not that I think I could write it any other way. Oh, and will be homaging Hitchcock too along the way.

Also, this is for otherhawk who remains amazing and supportive and who puts up with more than anyone would think possible.

* * *

**Prologue**

Danny sat in Doug Quentin's office doing his best not to look at Rusty. The man's obvious wig was already a source of amusement and he did not need the distraction of seeing that amusement alive in Rusty's eyes. He kept his eyes straight ahead and listened to the droning monologue from across the other side of the desk as if it were the most interesting speech in the world.

After a while, he felt brave enough to risk a glance in Rusty's direction. Mistake. Blue eyes sparkled and Danny bit his lip.

_You know what I'm thinking?_

_No._

'_No' you don't know or 'no'…?_

_NO._

_Oh, you do know._

_Rusty…_

Danny turned his attention back to front and centre and ignored the fact entirely that Rusty was scheming…

* * *

_**SomeWhere… SomeTime…**_

The atmosphere in the saloon was lively. There was piano music being played and there was cursing and shouting and hubbub. There were no people.

The new arrival stared around at the setting and if surprise was felt, it wasn't shown. Picked out in spotlight was a table with two chairs. Sitting in one of them was what looked like a saloon girl, blonde curls and low cut dress, long gloves and a garter showing high on a thigh. Her skin was creamy and her face was blowsy and her eyes were irresistible. It didn't pay to look at her eyes for too long.

"You find this entertaining." It was a statement, cold and flat.

"It amuses." Her voice was light and laughing and there was an undercurrent of pure steel.

"And this?" A hand was waved in her general direction.

She leaned forward on the table and her teeth were bared in a smile. "You don't like?"

There was a pause. "I find it…distracting."

She laughed and sat back again. "I like distracting."

There was an infinite, infinitesimal shimmer of movement and she had changed. Still female. Still blonde. Clothed now in a living skin of moving picture: lights and dice and coins and sparkle. Her eyes remained the same.

The other sighed and sat down opposite, the very picture of a man bemused. "There is no one to impress."

"That never stops me."

"You wanted to see me."

She nodded, serious for a moment. "They are in danger. Possibly."

There was almost a snort.

"Your latest favourites? Autolycus… Odysseus… and now…" A pout appeared on her face and the other waved an impatient hand. Pouts would not work. There was a pause and then, seeking clarification, "Possibly?"

She hesitated.

_There was a room and there was pain and there was agony and things were close, very close, and they were…_

"It's not clear," she said reluctantly. "I want to-"

"-protect. Of course you do. Doesn't make me any more partial than usual."

"I'll play you for them…" she offered. "If I win-"

"-I'll-"

"-yes, and if you win, you'll-"

"-save the favour."

"Very well."

Cards were dealt. Cards fell. Cards were laid and played.

"My game," she said softly, satisfied. "Well…?"

The other considered. "Alright. I'll grant them assistance."

"Immunity."

"_Assistance._" It was the best offer on the table.

She got to her feet, her skin alive with colour and form.

"You'll know when you're needed," she murmured and her eyes of living silver hardened for a moment into mirror. "I'll remind you."

And she was gone.

The other sat at the table for a long moment. Impartiality ran through and through the inner being. If a slight bending of rules was required in one direction, then there was the obligation of similar in the other.

A screen of countless possibility was thought of and was: bristling, golden lines of intersection skeined out. The search was determined and definite and two threads, wound so tight they appeared as one, were plucked up. With deliberate care, the threads were pulled apart until they hung as separate strands.

The other was not in the habit of smiling. Even so, lips curved upwards.

* * *

**Chapter One: Meeting**

Rusty was bored. The man who had called the four of them to the briefing had provided all salient details within the first quarter of an hour. And yet he was still talking. Rusty wanted to stretch and he quite felt like yawning. Stretching without showing it and yawning without opening one's mouth were fortunately arts in which Rusty was proficient.

Doug Quentin continued to talk; continued to cover the same ground in yet another way. Rusty was more interested in his toupee which looked in perfect danger of dislodging itself. It was surely only a matter of time. Perhaps if something was accidentally knocked on the floor and had to be picked up…

Rusty's gaze tracked left. He tried to catch the eye of the dark-haired man sat beside him but there was steadfast refusal to look in his direction. Rusty sighed to himself. He supposed it was to be expected. It wouldn't really be appropriate for either of them to grin wildly when Doug was busy pouring out his story.

Instead, he looked across and under his lashes at the other two men. One with tightly-curled blond hair, dressed in a sharp suit and tie, late-twenties. He had a pugnacious expression in repose. Rusty had seen him walk through the door smiling though and then his whole face had been alive and his eyes had been dancing.

The good-looking man sitting next to _him_ seemed to be holding back. That was the impression Rusty got. Control and calculation and caution were all in the man's face. He was giving nothing away. Rusty wondered briefly what the man would be like if he let himself go. Dangerous, he thought, dangerous.

* * *

Danny had also heard enough from Doug Quentin. The guy had had a bum deal and Danny was sorry for him and even willing to help him put things right for a price but he didn't need to hear the same facts over and over. Plus the wig was a distraction too far. He didn't dare look at his partner.

Instead, he looked without looking at the other two men Doug had summoned. One was a young man, early twenties, handsome with deeply dark eyes and nearly black hair not unlike his own. He hadn't rushed to put himself forward. He'd stayed way in the background as if he were holding back.

Unlike the other man. Late twenties? Mid-twenties, more likely. A little younger than he himself was. Blond and flamboyantly dressed, his air rakish and louche and devil-may-care. Laughter looked as if it was only ever just below the surface. Danny wondered briefly what the man would be like if he grew serious. Dangerous, he thought, dangerous.

* * *

Doug Quentin drew to a close.

"So, gentlemen, I want you to know that money is no object. I respect your reputations and I know of your abilities. I believe that the four of you will be able to help me. Are you in?"

The four of them looked at each other and they nodded.

"We'll make it right for you, Doug," Rusty promised.

"We'll make it happen," Danny added.

"Thank you, thank you so much," Doug beamed.

Rusty glanced at the other three men. "Plane to JFK leaves at 9.00 am. I'll book us on to it."

"Thanks," said the man with the blond curls. "I'm Rick Goodman, by the way."

"Rusty Ryan."

"Danny Ocean."

"Eduardo di Costa."

Hands were shook.

* * *

_In a bar…_

"What did you think of them?"

Rusty swilled the whisky round the glass and considered. "Rick's a little rough and ready. Physical. As for the other…uptight…except I saw a hint of slick, slick charm at the end. As a con man, I guess he might be halfway decent. If he lightened up and smiled a little more, he'd probably do an even better job." Rusty thought again of what he imagined lay underneath the surface. "I think if he let himself go, he'd be one to watch."

* * *

_In another bar…_

"What did you think?"

"One looks ready to burst into tears. Sensitive and caring. As for the other…he's very pretty and he has blue eyes."

There was a guffaw. "Seriously!"

"Seriously…?" Danny grinned. "He looks as if he doesn't give a damn about anything in this life or the next." The grin faded. "I think he's the one to watch."

* * *


	2. Introductions

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: they aren't mine. Liking the idea though.

Chapter Two: Introductions

* * *

At the airport Starbucks, Rusty reached across and broke off part of Eduardo's cinnamon Danish. Eduardo gave him a reproachful look.

"What is it about you and stealing other people's food?"

"It tastes better," Rusty grinned. "Illicit always does."

"Think I should start ordering twice as much," Eduardo muttered.

Rusty shrugged.

"Twice as much to steal," he suggested.

A cup of espresso and a latte arrived at the table accompanied by Danny and Rick. Rusty gave them a lazy gaze that disguised thoughtful scrutiny and smiled inside as he realised he was getting the same cool once over. He rocked back in his chair and let them take in the grey suit, the open necked flame-red shirt and the thin gold chain around his neck. Rusty was looking back at expensive silks and stylish cuts and sober colours. Just like Eduardo. Speaking of whom…

Eduardo was sitting a little straighter in his chair and he could tell Ed wasn't completely comfortable with the stares. Rusty wanted him to shrug it all off like he did. Wasn't like looks were going to ever bother him.

"This is just like a Western," he suggested lightly.

"You Clint?" the dark-haired man – Danny - asked.

"More Gary Cooper. Though," he conceded, "occasionally Gene Wilder."

He saw Danny Ocean – and what kind of crazy name was that? – flick a smile of acknowledgement. Movie fan. Well, there were plenty about. Rusty sat forward and sipped his hot chocolate and looked more closely at the man. His first impressions still held. Incredibly focused. Calm and unhurried and there were deep waters here. The man could be in danger of becoming interesting.

And there was something about his eyes…something compelling… Rusty looked up under his lashes at him. Easy to picture those eyes laughing or full of deadly promise. Killer's eyes. Not that Danny looked like he knew much about the fact. And what was the point of that? What a waste.

"Flight leaves-?"

"- 9.00 am, Rick," Rusty said. "Still 9.00 am."

Rick's nose wrinkled slightly and Rusty gave him a smile that he knew was borderline annoying. Oh, Rick was just giving so much away. Obviously didn't like to be interrupted. Obviously didn't like the suggestion that he was either stupid or forgetful. He was easy to read in a way that Danny wasn't.

Comfortable with silence, Rusty took another sip of hot chocolate and glanced down at Eduardo's empty plate, his bottom lip protruding slightly. He could do with more sugar. Mind you, he could always do with more sugar.

"So." Eduardo's voice startled him. "Maybe we should introduce ourselves. Talk about ourselves a little. If we're going to be working together."

Eduardo. Peace-maker. Wanted the world to be one big happier melting-pot. Rusty sighed inwardly. The kid needed to learn when to be quiet. Rusty saw Danny's eyes dart across to Eduardo in a heartbeat.

"Sure, kid. Start talking."

* * *

"I'm not a kid," Eduardo told Danny pleasantly. "My name is Eduardo di Costa, I'm twenty-two and I have been working the long con for four years and the short con for as long as I can remember. And I learned from the best."

Danny let the hint of faint amusement hit his eyes. Eduardo no doubt thought he was experienced. Somehow he found it difficult to believe that he had been in quite the same number of tight spots that he and Rick had. That time in Minneapolis, for example, when they'd only been half a step ahead of O'Connor and his men and he had dragged up the grating and he and Rick had lain underneath it and watched as feet had thundered over the top of them.

"He talking about you?" Rick looked at Rusty.

"I don't disappoint." Rusty's cheek was resting on his hand, his left forefinger level with his eye, the grin just growing wider. "You want to know my pedigree? Oh, I'm a thoroughbred mongrel. Twenty-seven and I live for cash, cards and the con."

"States?"

"Europe mostly," Eduardo supplied.

"What's the biggest job you pulled?" Rick asked and the only concession Danny made to the inner wince at the bluntness was tightening his grip just a little on the handle of the espresso cup.

Danny saw Eduardo and Rusty exchange a glance that he couldn't read and then Eduardo shook his head.

"Fernando Monterey's wine cellar," Rusty said decisively.

"You stole his wine." Rick didn't sound impressed.

"We stole his cellar," Eduardo corrected gently and while Rick blinked, Danny hid the unexpected smile behind his espresso cup. "What about you two?"

Rick looked at Danny and Danny gave a half-shrug and put his cup down.

"We met in college." He shrugged again and clarified. "Weren't actually students at the time. And now…money…jewels…art. We're always open to suggestion."

"Best way to be," Rusty nodded.

Danny chose to ignore the gleam in Rusty's eye. The man was dressed as flashily this morning as he had been the previous day and his manner suggested he had immense potential to be maddening. Ignoring seemed to be a good plan. If only Rick could be persuaded to try it.

"Five years we been together," Rick said. "Danny does the dreaming, I do the scheming."

"Look at you with your own little slogan."

Danny saw without seeing the way Rick's jaw set firmly.

"You got a problem with-"

"Nah," Rusty cut him off and answered a different question. "S'catchy."

"So. Doug Quentin," Danny went on hurriedly.

* * *

Doug had got carried away by a pretty face and a winning smile. He'd taken a small figurine that he'd got bored with to a New York auction house and one of the assistants, Alisha, had been extremely helpful. Yes, it was very valuable and she would take excellent care of it and had Mr Quentin seen some of the other lots they were currently handling and would Mr Quentin like a private tour of the pieces up for sale and my, she would _love_ to accept Mr Quentin's offer of dinner and of _course_ she would call Mr Quentin 'Doug'.

The courtship had been intense and immediate. Doug had showered gifts, his generosity knowing no bounds. And Alisha had been a delightful companion to escort to the theatre and to the Palm Court at the Plaza and when one evening she hadn't shown and when the next, she had rung to cancel and had sounded so upset – brave but upset – he had hesitantly come to her apartment and found her in tears.

He'd thought of a jealous ex-boyfriend or maybe an angry husband and even though he wasn't ever a physical man, he'd wanted to defend her, the spirit rising up inside him, his fists clenching with what he would do, his heart racing with adrenaline at the thought of fisticuffs. When he'd found out that it was her foolish brother whom she loved dearly and who had run up gambling debts and that it was all simply about _money,_ the relief had been overwhelming.

"I can help. Let me help," he'd begged.

Alisha had demurred and debated and downright agonised and he'd pleaded with her pride and eventually, she had agreed to set up a meeting with Anton.

Doug had liked Anton. A year or two younger than Alisha apparently though he'd never have thought it. He supposed that Anton's wayward streak had led to him looking older than his years. It was obvious that Anton adored his sister. It was obvious that Alisha adored her brother. And Doug, who had lost his little brother at an early age, heartily approved of the sibling solidarity.

It had taken a lot of persuasion for Anton to take the money. There had been considerable stubbornness and garbage about not wanting charity and Alisha had leaned across the restaurant table and grabbed Anton's arm and beseeched him. And eventually, Anton had given in and accepted the assistance.

Thereafter, there had been another three months of opportunities to help foolish Anton who really never quite saw the error of his ways. Three months to see Alisha smile up through tears at him in a way that made him swell inside with philanthropic self-congratulation. Three months of seeing Alisha and that was delightful. Even though they had never done more than kiss.

Doug respected her for it. He told her so. Not that he wasn't horny as hell. The girl was wholesome and modest and sexy with it in a prim little way that drove Doug quietly crazy. He'd half-hinted a couple of times about moving their relationship on to another level and she'd batted that back with ease. Too soon. She wasn't that kind of girl. But thank you so _much _for the compliment. And yes, she would _love_ to go to dinner at the Millennium Hilton.

The end had come suddenly. There had been a phone call he wasn't supposed to hear. And he'd caught a couple of looks between Alisha and Anton that weren't quite… He'd wondered. And he'd followed Alisha and he'd seen her embrace Anton in a less than sisterly fashion.

The scales had fallen. Alisha had visited him in Boston with another tale of Anton-induced woe and Doug had listened and had started to tell her exactly what he thought of her. Except that she got in first. With sneers and scorn, mocking and merciless. She'd turned on her heel and left and he'd stood blinking a little and looking after her and only later did he discover that she had lifted the little Canaletto from the hallway on her way out.

* * *

"No fool like an old fool," was Rick's verdict. "Can see why he didn't want to get the police involved."

"Yeah," Rusty agreed wholeheartedly.

"Well, he's the man paying the wage," Danny said and Eduardo had nodded.

They had a job to do.


	3. Arriving

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own, just playing in the playground.

Chapter Three: Arriving

* * *

They stood in line for the check-in desk, waiting with other travellers for passage on the busy air route. Four con men in amongst the unsuspecting businessmen and tourists and students. Danny saw Rick frown down at the ticket in his hand, up at the back of Eduardo and Rusty's heads and back down at the ticket.

"What is it?" Danny asked

"Economy," Rick muttered. "Fucking economy?"

It had been directed at Danny at his side but Eduardo turned round and smiled, easy and natural and winning, and Danny thought that maybe he'd done Eduardo a disservice: maybe the kid had more time on the con under his belt than Danny had thought.

"Don't worry," Eduardo said, full of reassurance.

Rick stared at him. "Was I talking to you? Did I look like I was talking to you?"

Eduardo shrugged. "I just don't want you to worry."

"For your information," and the tone was edging towards glacial, "I can't remember the last time I travelled economy." Rick glanced at Danny. "Why the fuck did we let Jason King buy the tickets?"

Eduardo didn't get the reference but Danny's lips twitched and he saw the back of Rusty's head tilt fractionally to one side: Jason King was certainly listening though Danny didn't know if he was as highly amused as he, Danny, was. They were nearly at the front of the line and Eduardo gave another little half-shrug.

"He likes the challenge," he said as if that explained everything and he motioned Rick and Danny to stay back as Rusty strolled up to the check-in desk.

"What the-"

"Let it go, Rick," Danny said quietly, a hand laid lightly on his arm and he turned his attention curiously to Rusty, leaning forward and addressing the check-in girl.

"Hi," Danny heard him say and his voice was warm and inviting and light and full of tease and flirt.

Danny saw the colour rise in the face of the girl behind the desk and her plastic smile melted away into genuine. Upgrade was assured.

* * *

Rusty stretched his legs contentedly and smiled up at the good-looking steward who leaned over to check that the seatbelt was fastened properly. The man whose name badge declared him to be Kenny flashed teeth at him in return and then turned his attention to Eduardo at Rusty's side.

"Everything alright for you, sir?" Kenny murmured and Eduardo nodded.

"Everything's fine. Thank you."

"This your first time travelling with ACA Airlines, sir?"

"Oh, it's certainly not my first time."

"We just like to make sure our passengers are comfortable and looked after. My name is Kenny and I hope you'll call on me."

"I'll be sure to. Kenny."

Rusty looked out of the window at the tarmac and smiled inside at the bright-eyed look he knew Ed was wearing and the nascent flirt that he could hear on both sides.

* * *

Across the aisle from them, Rick dug an elbow into Danny's ribs.

"You see that?" he asked, his voice low.

Danny raised his gaze slightly from the in-flight magazine and its supremely uninteresting article on the benefits cosmetic surgery could bestow on one's feet. He caught sight of Rusty, eyes closed, resting his head on the back of his seat and Eduardo, running his left forefinger casually along his bottom lip and having a conversation with the steward that could only be described as very friendly.

"So the kid likes guys," he shrugged and frowned again at the pictures of neatened toes. When would this ever seem like a good idea?

Rick pursed his lips and Danny felt the weight of the look. He turned his head to Rick.

"We got a problem with that?" he asked _sotto voce _and frowned slightly. He didn't have Rick marked down as homophobic particularly. He was sure he would have noticed at some point. Sure, Rick could be a little pointlessly macho from time to time but nothing vicious had ever come out.

"Don't know," Rick said at last and there was uncomfortable and there was not quite sure how to handle. "Just with Captain Flash sitting over there too…"

"Your masculinity under threat somehow?" Danny grinned. "Don't sweat it. You are all man."

Rick struggled for a moment and then he grinned back at Danny. "Sure. Sure. Screw 'em."

* * *

"The flight lasts a little over an hour," Rusty mentioned, his eyes still closed, as Kenny walked away for maybe the fifth time in twenty minutes.

"I know how long the flight is," Eduardo told him.

"You sure? Because I could loan you my watch."

"My watch is in full working order."

Rusty opened his eyes and looked at his partner. "So, you gonna do something about it or-"

"I don't need help organising my love life, Rusty."

"No, you _do_ need help," Rusty corrected. "You just don't _want _help."

Eduardo turned dark eyes full of amusement on him. "Why are you so anxious to- no!"

The last was hissed as Rusty leaned across and pushed the button on Eduardo's chair to summon Kenny. By the time Kenny arrived, Rusty was looking out at clouds and ignoring the glare that was burning into his shoulder.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"He's wondering if you could show him where the bathroom is," Rusty said, still studying blue and white.

"I'd be delighted-" Kenny sounded extremely delighted.

"I'm good, Kenny," Eduardo cut in. "Thank you. I just need some more nuts, please. Mine appear to have been stolen."

"Of course. Sir." The disappointment was close to the surface.

"Nuts?" Rusty said, turning to him as Kenny stepped away.

"Times when I think I must be," came the rejoinder.

The nuts were brought and opened and Rusty sighed as Eduardo ate, angry and containing it.

"Ed…"

"Look, Rusty, I just don't-"

"I know, I know," he soothed. "Don't be mad with me."

Eduardo sighed and glanced down at the handful of cashews. "You don't have to find me a date and you don't have to set me up and you don't have to worry about me. I can do just fine by myself."

He glanced at Rusty and Rusty saw flashes of pride and fury and exasperation. He gave Ed his best crestfallen and sheepish look and saw exasperation win out.

"Here." Eduardo pushed what remained of the snack at him and forgiven, Rusty grinned.

* * *

They'd landed and said goodbye to a dejected Kenny who was full of what might have been, collected their holdalls and were heading through to pick up a yellow cab.

"I was thinking we might hit somewhere Midtown," Danny said climbing in next to Rusty. "Give us a good base of operations."

"Like with Wilson Brannigan," Rick commented from up front.

"Wilson Brannigan?" Eduardo asked politely.

"Financier who knew a good idea when he saw it," Danny explained. "Especially someone else's."

Rusty looked intrigued. "Not giving credit where credit was due?"

"Mmm. A little reassigning of title and entitlement." A venture capitalist, in fact, who had pinned down an inventor to unfair terms and proceeded to exploit wildly. Danny hadn't approved. "We reassigned it back again."

If Rusty was impressed he didn't show it. Instead, those blue eyes that were on permanent smile looked a little more thoughtful and Danny briefly wondered what those thoughts were. Didn't seem as if Rusty was going to let him inside his head in a hurry.

"So. Midtown? Maybe the Celeste? It's small but it's well-situated and-"

"No. Well, yes," Rusty said in a wave of ambiguity. "Yes, Midtown, no to the hotel."

"We gonna sleep on the streets?" Rick wanted to know.

"Don't recommend it," Rusty shot back. "Thought we'd look up a friend of mine. Although…" he hesitated and then shrugged mysteriously. "Well, it's been a while."

* * *

The friend was located inside a bar; the friend was, in fact, the bar owner: the friend was 5'8, thirties, dark-haired, Italian-American for a guess and very, very female.

"Everyone, this is Maria Bellini, Maria, this is everyone."

Maria waved an impatient hand at everyone and then, eyes flashing, poked Rusty in the chest and launched into a furious and unintelligible tirade.

"Oh, she's a little cross," Eduardo said unnecessarily.

"Any clue why?" Danny asked him.

Eduardo scratched his ear. "I think her cousin, Octavia, is involved." He listened more closely. "I'm almost certain Rusty didn't call her."

There was a resounding slap and Danny and Eduardo winced while Rick shook his head with a laugh.

"Women," was his only comment.

Rusty's hands were on Maria's shoulders and he was speaking softly, placatingly and in Italian.

"He's saying…" Eduardo tailed off. "Huh. Looks like he's forgiven."

Maria's arms were round Rusty in a fierce embrace and then she grabbed his face with both hands and planted kisses on either cheek. The red palm print showing livid, Rusty put his arm around her and firmly guided her over to the other three.

"Ed, Danny and Rick," he introduced. "We need somewhere to stay, Maria."

"Upstairs is free," she nodded. "You want breakfast, lunch and dinner?"

Rusty's face lit up and she sighed. "I know_ you_ do."

She walked over to the bar and snatched up two sets of keys throwing one set at Rick and the other at Rusty.

"No explosions," she said warningly and Danny's eyebrows shot up.

* * *

"She was gorgeous and smart and you really didn't call her?" Eduardo wondered as they climbed the stairs.

"She had two cats," Rusty said. "Anyway. She's married now with three kids so I think she's over me."

Rick opened the door to upstairs and the four of them stepped through into a large living area that was covered in dust.

"Four bedrooms," Rusty said. "Kitchen, bathroom and hopefully cable."

He dropped his holdall on the couch and hit the TV remote. "Cable," he confirmed happily.

Rick was looking around at the battered couch and the easy chairs that had seen better days and the tired décor and Danny could see disdain and a fondness for the good life bubbling under the surface. It wouldn't do to share all that with Rusty; not when he'd called in a favour.

"It'll be fine," he said and then thought that sounded a little patronising. "It'll be great."

Rusty shot him a curious glance and he felt obliged to continue. "How do you know Maria?"

"Oh." Rusty shrugged. "The usual."

"Ex-girlfriend," Rick nodded.

"No." Rusty smiled. "Helped her get her bar back. She lost it in a poker game."

"That's going back a bit," Eduardo said softly. "Before me, I mean."

"There was life before you," Rusty agreed gravely. "Difficult though it is to think back two years."

Eduardo flushed and moved away, muttering something about needing to look at the bedrooms. Rusty stood and watched him go and seemed to want to follow but he didn't.

"You been partners two years," Rick said and there was a second question in there that Danny heard. It seemed as if Rick wanted some answers.

Rusty appeared not to notice. "Guess so. Wasn't really counting."

Eduardo reappeared and Danny saw a casual glance from Rusty and the faintest of nods in reply and then Rusty turned back to Rick and Danny.

"So. You guys hungry? Thought we could all go and grab something to eat."

"It's a little early for lunch," Danny suggested, checking the time. He looked up to see Rusty staring at him uncomprehendingly.

"Trust me," Eduardo said. "It's never too early for lunch."

* * *

A/N: anyone spot the goldfish? ;)


	4. Boundaries

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: own nothing Oceany.

Chapter Four: Boundaries

_**

* * *

**_

SomeTime… SomeWhere…

A blade was being sharpened over and over and over again. Scrupulous attention was being paid to the action and the result. Perfection was being sought. There was calm and imperturbability like the eye of a storm. Blazing red curls and intense attitude whirled in and interrupted it.

"You split them up!"

Grey eyes lifted from their task and then dropped back down again. There was no denial.

"It can be unhealthy for two people to be quite so close."

"You separated them!"

"You say that as if it were the worst crime in the universe."

"In _their_ universe, it is."

There was a shrug. "If it makes such a difference, they'll find each other."

"They _have _found each other."

"You really are about the emphasis." Wonderingly. "Well, then you should be happy."

Her eyes were hard and metal and unforgiving. She ripped through the air and laid open the many threads of life and honed unerringly in on two golden filaments, in proximity but flailing, twitching as if lost and looking for home.

"You think this makes me happy?"

There was no sound but the soundless noise of the blade being whetted.

"They'll show you," she muttered and left.

Fingers caressed the impossibly sharp and a half a half-thought was dedicated to what exactly might be demonstrated. Then there was a shrug of nonchalance and attention was turned back to the blade.

* * *

Waving goodbye to Maria, Rusty had guided them to a diner that he said used to be all things amazing and they took a back table and the waitress had appeared. Danny's eyebrow had risen at the amount of food Rusty ordered.

"Guy's got worms," Rick muttered as the plates started to arrive.

Danny waited till the waitress was well away and then smiled round the table.

"So, gentlemen. We need a strategy."

Rusty stopped in mid-milkshake and his eyes turned crystal. "Who made you the leader of the gang?"

Danny shrugged. "You want to-"

"-I'd like to be asked."

Cold and hostile and Danny felt Rick tense in the seat beside him.

The smile on Danny's face chilled a couple of degrees. "I didn't mean to assume. I'm sorry if you're offended."

"Ocean's Four," Rusty said, his eyes unblinking and never leaving Danny's. "Is that it?"

Rick was chomping at the bit to make some sort of remark and Danny could sense Eduardo badly wanted to say something to lighten the atmosphere. Even so, they were both deferring to their partners. This was a key moment. Out of nowhere, out of nothing, this was a key moment. And Rusty was…A power struggle? Oh…not the sort that was obvious. Rusty was testing him. Seeing whether he would back down. Seeing what sort of man he was. Well, the answer to that was simple.

"Are you happy for me to run this?" he asked and dark eyes locked on blue.

There was a moment and then the hardness in Rusty's eyes melted away and he slurped milkshake. "Be my guest."

Danny could sense the disbelief and the anger in Rick and he spoke quickly.

"Thank you. So. Strategy. Research, plan and execute. My initial thought is an Uncle Charlie." Rick grunted approval and he saw Rusty nod and Eduardo look blank but hide it well. "Follow that up with some sort of Reverse Susan. In any case, first task, reconnaissance. Let's gather as much intelligence as we can about Alisha, Anton and the auction house."

"If we go for an Uncle Charlie," Rusty said, "we need to be thinking about the who."

Danny nodded. "You want-"

"I think it should be you," Rusty told him.

It was unexpected. It was confidence and trust and immediate. He heard Rick say, "Damn right" and he caught the look Eduardo gave Rusty and not showing any of what he was feeling, he stared at the blond.

"Why?" he asked finally, not willing to make any assumptions himself.

Rusty put the milkshake down and picked up the burger. "You look the part. Uncle Charlie needs someone rich and old enough to be convincing."

"I look rich?"

"You look old. Older than the rest of us," Rusty qualified. "Distinguished, if you like."

Danny did like. He preferred. And he saw the damn amusement in Rusty's eyes at the hint of vanity.

"Rick is thirty," he said pointlessly, stating the year's difference and the amusement grew.

"You," Rusty said. "You can do mature."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence."

Rusty grinned and picked up a fistful of fries.

"OK," Danny agreed. "I take on Alisha. We still need that intelligence."

"I'll take the auction house," Rusty said decisively. "Ed? You OK following the lady?"

Eduardo smiled. "No problem."

Danny turned to Rick. "That leaves you with Anton."

"Doesn't it just." Rick sounded none too happy at the way the roles had been divided and Danny was unsure whether it was because he wanted another part to play or because it had all happened without his input.

"That alright?" Danny asked and his eyes were searching for the reason.

"It's fine," Rick said shortly and bit into his burger.

* * *

Rick had disappeared to the bathroom and Eduardo pushed his empty plate to one side and looked at Rusty with a hesitant expression.

"What is it?" Rusty asked.

"Alisha and Anton. They're con artists, aren't they? Just like us. I mean what makes them fair targets?"

"Three-"

"There were three-"

Danny and Rusty both spoke at once and then Danny gave a little "go ahead" gesture.

"It's one thing to execute a con depriving a fool from his money. But they got greedy which was their first mistake. They would have milked Doug for all he was worth and there are rules about how much you take from someone as relatively harmless as Doug."

"Plus," Danny interrupted, "she didn't need to rub his nose in his shortcomings."

"Especially with that wig," Rusty agreed. "Guy must look in a mirror each morning and be able to see those for himself. And then there's the painting."

"The Canaletto?"

"Yeah. Clumsy to lift it."

"Just an inelegant thing to do," Danny said.

Rick had appeared for the last part of the conversation. "Besides which, Doug is the paymaster," he remarked and that made the point incontrovertible.

* * *

The four of them were sitting in the little park across from the auction house which was part of a large and airy modern building, all smoky glass and steel.

"It's big," Rusty commented thoughtfully and Rick looked at him.

"You were expecting small?"

"Yes," Rusty said simply. "It's not Sotheby's or Christies…" He frowned. "Have either of you two heard of it before?"

Danny shook his head and then almost as an afterthought glanced at Rick.

"Nope. Not a place I'm familiar with."

Danny's eyes were on Rusty's face which was all things serious and contemplative.

"You thinking an out of hours look around wouldn't go amiss?"

"Can't hurt," Rusty shrugged. He turned his head and looked at Danny. "If we're going to set up the Reverse Susan-"

"-we need to find a specialist," Danny finished. "You know anyone?"

"There's a guy in the UK whom I'd recommend. But he's pricey. Even getting him on a plane can be an effort. You guys know anyone local?"

There was a split second of hesitation as Danny looked at Rick.

"Perry Grafham," Rick said at once and the look of relief on Danny's face was at once puzzling and intriguing to Rusty.

"We'll go find Perry and brief him," Danny said. "Eduardo? You want to dig out the plans to the place?"

"Sure," Eduardo smiled and Rusty knew he was pleased to be included.

"I'll go and see what the place looks like during daylight hours," Rusty offered, getting to his feet. "See you all back at Maria's."

* * *

At the library, Mrs Glover was delighted by the young architectural student and his earnest request for assistance with his thesis.

"I love Ayn Rand," Mrs Glover trilled. "Howard Roark is just the epitome of what an architect should be. All untouchable and true to his principles and magical with what he comes up with."

The student, Matthew, smiled and even though Mrs Glover thought it likely that Matthew had never read "The Fountainhead" in his life, it was a lovely smile and she reciprocated.

"Now, then. Let's find you the information you want."

* * *

Perry Grafham hadn't changed, Danny decided. He still looked sixty, he still smoked like a chimney and he still dressed in tweeds and a bow tie. They explained what they wanted and he cut them off with a curt nod of acknowledgement.

"Yes, yes. I'll sort it. Call back in a couple of days and you will have a work of genius."

He was still as modest as ever.

* * *

Inside the auction house, Rusty had escaped the foyer and moved into the little gallery that ran alongside the dealers' desks. From Doug's description, he'd spotted Alisha immediately. Dark-haired, wearing her hair pinned up and dressed in an elegant suit, diamond earrings and a smile that didn't reach her eyes as she chatted with possible clients.

Someone walked past him and Rusty looked intently at the little gold sculpture in the display case.

"It's lovely, isn't it?" said a voice behind him and Rusty turned to see a man about his age, brown hair and brown eyes and a warm smile. "It's called Narcissus Rising."

Interest piqued, Rusty squinted again at the sculpture: its title made nothing clearer.

"It's a very striking piece," he told the man. "You work here?"

"I'm Alex," said Alex, nodding. "I'm in inventory."

Whatever that might be.

"Are you looking for anything in particular, sir?"

"James. James Gallagher. Not really, Alex. I'm just looking."

"Are you coming to the auction tomorrow, Mr Gallagher? I'd be happy to show you some of the lots we're going to be selling."

Rusty saw the hint of interest in Alex's eyes and allowed a slow smile to bloom across his face.

"Please. Call me James. And that would be wonderful."

* * *

Rick walked alongside Danny on their way back to Maria's and wondered again about why he was feeling so uneasy about the people they were working with.

Well, maybe it was the less than manly aspect of the pair of them. If he was being honest, he didn't feel entirely comfortable about it. A man should be a man, not an enigma. And here he was confronted by two enigmas. And one of them looked to be even more enigmatic than he should be.

Rick shook himself. It wasn't just about that. He didn't like the way Rusty was organising them, organising Danny. This breaking in idea, for instance. He'd been subtle about it, but the idea had come from Rusty. Rick needed to make sure that Rusty didn't get ideas above his station. Danny was the ideas man. Danny was the golden goose as far as he, Rick, was concerned and he was going to make sure Rusty realised how special Danny was.

Couldn't just be about the attitude either. Pair of pretty _boys_ swanning through life as if they owned it. Well, maybe not the kid so much. Rick thought he could knock a little respect into those dark eyes with just a few sharp words. But Rusty, (and what sort of stupid name was that?), Rusty was another matter. There was something about Rusty that made the hairs stand up on the back of Rick's neck. He seemed untouchable.

Rick didn't like not knowing people's vulnerable spots. It kept him one step ahead and it helped him understand likely reactions. Danny, for instance. Rick felt certain he knew all about what Danny wanted to protect, what would hurt Danny.

He needed to find out about Rusty. Mostly for the identification of weak spots. Partly because the air of invulnerability grated: Rick wanted ammunition.


	5. Plans

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: nope. Still don't own. Not even on a "have now pay in four years' time" option. But then they're not settees.

Chapter Five: Plans

* * *

As Rick and Danny reached the door to the flat above the bar, Maria came out.

"Pot of chilli on the stove," she said. "Bread on the side. Milk and beer in the fridge. Icecream in the freezer compartment. Stocked up with groceries and if you can make it downstairs for eight tomorrow morning, I'll cook you breakfast."

"Thanks," Danny called after her and she waved a hand in acknowledgement as she headed down the stairs.

He followed Rick into the flat and stood blinking. The flat was spotless. Cleaned and polished and much further along the happily inhabitable spectrum than Danny would have ever expected it to reach. Eduardo walked out of one of the bedrooms.

"She's made up all the beds fresh," he told them.

"Huh." Even the hard to impress Rick had a look of grudging approval.

"How'd you get on with the plans?" Danny asked and Eduardo nodded at the coffee table.

"It looks intricate," he said as the other two sat either side of him on the couch and he unfurled the blueprints.

Danny scanned the drawings and was inclined to agree. Security was tight. There seemed to be layer on layer of space that could be offices…though what was with quite so many bathrooms…and there were back loading bays that were unusually large…and there were worrying little blank boxes of space on the upper levels that had no explanation whatsoever.

"Looks impossible," Rick commented. "Look at the wiring. And the sensors."

"Wait for Rusty to look at it before you say it's impossible," Eduardo reproved and Rick snorted.

"You think I need Mr Slick to tell me what I already know?"

"Talking about me?" Rusty stood in the doorway and Danny saw casual amusement and a burning desire to bait Rick.

Eduardo must have seen the same thing.

"I got the plans, Rusty," he said, stepping in to the conversation. "We were just looking them over."

"You want to see what you think?" Danny invited.

"Sure." Rusty suddenly looked away, distracted. "Can I smell…?"

He strode into the little kitchen and there was an exclamation of pure joy. He reappeared, eyes shining.

"Maria brought us home-made chilli!"

"Bread on the side, beer and milk in the fridge, ice-cream in the freezer compartment," Danny quoted.

He found his mouth curving upwards at the sight of Rusty seemingly so genuinely excited by something so ordinary as food. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eduardo beside him hiding a smile and he turned his head a fraction and caught the disbelief rich in Rick.

"Oh, I bet it's Rocky Road," Rusty muttered and disappeared again. There was another noise of happiness and then Rusty came back again. "Maria spoils us," he said contentedly.

"You gonna study the plans?" Rick asked, business like and cutting to the chase.

"After we've eaten," Rusty told him, adding seriously, "I think better when I've eaten."

* * *

The pot of chilli was scraped clean. Beers had been cracked open. Ice-cream had been devoured. Danny's eyebrows had risen at the soft little half-noises of enjoyment that Rusty had occasionally emitted. That could get distracting really quickly. Judging by the expression on Rick's face, it had moved past distracting through fascination and smack bang into annoying.

Talk had been well away from the Quentin job. Every time either he or Rick tried to steer it round to business, Rusty steered it firmly away again into the trivial and the unlikely. After three or four attempts, Danny had given up and sat back to enjoy his dinner. Rick had given up a short time later and sat back and stabbed his food. Rusty appeared not to notice. Finally, Rusty laid down his spoon and stared wistfully at the empty carton of ice-cream and then sat back in his chair.

"How'd you get on with the electronics?" he asked.

"Oh, _now _you want to know!" Rick scoffed and Danny couldn't blame him. Seemed like Rusty wanted things on his terms.

"Yes. I do."

All insouciance gone. Sincere and interested and Danny saw Rick blink at him. Hell, he wanted to blink at Rusty himself. The man was unfathomable.

"Met our man, Perry," Rick said eventually. "He's going to have what we want in a couple of days."

Rusty nodded. "It'll need to be secure and it'll need to be flawless."

Rick glared at him.

"It'll be both," Danny said quickly. "Perry doesn't disappoint."

Rusty was holding Rick's gaze. "Good," he suggested.

The tension was building ridiculously, tangibly and Eduardo, obviously wanting to diffuse it, asked, "What about you, Rusty? How'd it go inside?"

The blue eyes broke away to look over at Eduardo and there was a twitch of the lips which Danny read as Rusty knowing exactly what Eduardo's motives were.

"Had a good look round. There's an auction being held there tomorrow and I found myself a willing little guide called Alex who was interested enough to-"

"Alex being a he?" Rick interrupted.

"Yeah." A slow grin crept over Rusty's face.

"And he's interested." Rick went on, flatly seeking clarification.

"I'm sure Rusty didn't mean it that way," Danny was all for heading off confrontation as much as Eduardo was.

"Actually, Rusty meant it exactly that way." Rusty's eyes were bright and unblinking as if daring Rick to look away or to blink. Rick was doing neither.

"The plans, Rusty," Danny said firmly. He wasn't going to let Rusty push his volatile partner over the edge. He watched as Rusty weighed up whether or not to continue to provoke Rick and then Rusty gave a blithe smile and stood up.

"Let's go see."

They moved over to where the plans were and Danny waited for Rusty to sit down on the couch next to Rick but instead he sat cross-legged on the floor the other side of the table. Danny glanced at Rick who was shaking his head, dismissive and scornful, still angry at the challenge being thrown at him, glaring at the top of Rusty's head, bent over the upside down plans, daring him to come up with an answer that he, Rick, couldn't see.

Eduardo took up residence in one of the easy chairs at the side and Danny perched on the arm, sipping a beer and curious. He wasn't sure if Rusty was all shine and no substance but he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for a little while longer.

"Looks tricky," was Rusty's eventual verdict.

Rick's face was half an expression away from a sneer. "No shit, Sherlock."

"If we could step inside the alarm system," Danny said, "we'd be OK."

"Yeah," Rusty was nodding. "There's a curtain of security around the edges but if we slip underneath it…" He frowned and knelt up, leaning across the table and jabbed a finger at the plans. "I want to know why security is double up on these floors, up away from the actual auction operation."

Danny came over to his side and Rusty twisted the plans round to face them. Peripherally, Danny felt the startled annoyance from Rick.

"See?" His finger traced the alarm system. "It's what you'd expect on these levels, solid, dependable…but go up a couple of floors and it's a different story."

"Layered. Insulated." Danny saw.

"Yeah. A definite barrier between the floors below and whatever's on these and the same again up above, sealing it in. And on these upper floors…little pockets of concentrate hi-tech and other corridors with nothing on them." He looked sideways at Danny at his shoulder. "Manned?"

"Maybe," Danny nodded. "What do you make of these?" He tapped a couple of the little empty boxes.

"Don't know…but I want to find out."

"Yeah."

Danny did too. It was a conundrum. On the lower floors, the auction house layout and up above it, mystery.

"You got a way in?" Rick asked heavily and Rusty's fingers rubbed gently at his bottom lip. He sat back on his heels.

"Security's a little weaker up above this bit," he said eventually. "If we could start at the top and work down..."

"Security's nearly non-existent here," Danny pointed out.

Eduardo leaned over. "Yes, but that's the side with the windows that don't open. They probably think they don't need-"

"-of course, they don't need!" Rick interjected.

"But if we can get in through here," Danny insisted, "we only have a thin line to break through. Then we're free to explore."

Rusty's eyes had acquired a distant look. "Cradle," he said.

Eduardo frowned and Rick stared at him as if he was speaking Bulgarian but to his own surprise, Danny found himself nodding.

"Window cleaning cradle," Danny elaborated with a hint of guilt as he saw the incomprehension on the other two faces.

"We're going to ask them if they want their windows cleaning?" The incredulity in Rick's voice was palpable.

Rusty smiled. Brightly. Tightly. And for some reason, Danny needed to repress a shiver.

"There's a cradle already on site, Rick. It was right at the top of the building on the left as we looked at it. It's high-sided and it'll afford good cover. We can borrow it, position it, cut our way into the building and we're away."

Rick held the long, cool gaze for a couple of beats and then sat back on the couch and looked as if he wanted to argue more.

"We go up to the roof in the service elevator…it'll work." Danny lent his backing to the scheme and overruled any unvoiced objections from Rick.

"It should work," Rusty added a note of caution. "We'll need equipment-"

"-ropes and glass-cutter-"

"-and a circuit breaker-"

"-and we need to be in position-"

"-for tomorrow night?"

"Yeah." Danny smiled. "Guess we get in there late afternoon."

"Auction's in the morning and if you're being Uncle Charlie-"

"-then tomorrow afternoon should be fine."

"Yeah."

Danny turned to Rick. "We'll need the equipment ready to go by four. I'll get a list together."

"You and him?" Rick asked and his voice was cool and Rusty was suddenly busy rolling the plans up.

"You're going to be tracking down Anton, remember? And Eduardo's trailing Alisha. We're the guys who won't be busy."

Rick still looked unhappy but he nodded as Rusty stood up.

"You decided where I'm sleeping yet, Ed?"

"Room at the front on the left," Eduardo supplied promptly. "I'm next door."

"Figures," Rick muttered loud enough for all of them to hear. He must have sensed the looks. "What? Danny and I like to be next to each other too.

Rusty opened and closed his mouth and then gave a shrug.

"Right. I'm going to take these and a beer and see if I can figure out the best route for tomorrow night. I'll see you guys in the morning."

"Maria said eight for breakfast," Danny said and Rusty gave a happy sigh that seemed involuntary. Danny wondered why food was such a motivating factor.

"Good job getting hold of these," Rusty said waving the plans and Eduardo flushed with pride. Rusty turned to Rick. "Ed can help you with that list, you know. He's got a light touch and he's very resourceful."

"Thanks," Rick said stonily. "I'll take it under consideration."

* * *

"Why?"

Low and fierce and there was bitterness and frustration and anger all wrapped up in one word.

Rusty had locked himself away and Eduardo had disappeared into his room and they were left sitting on the couch, beers in their hands, with some football game on that Danny couldn't follow and Rick wasn't watching.

"Why what?" Danny asked though he felt sure he knew what was coming.

"Why did Doug bother getting them involved?"

Danny was silent. He had a pretty good idea why. If Doug had been asking around. He'd kind of hoped that Rick wouldn't bring the question up.

"It's not like we need those two. The kid is hardly…I mean, what's he got to offer?"

Danny shrugged. "You heard Rusty. Eduardo's got good fingers-"

Rick snorted.

"Oh, I bet he's got good fingers. You don't think that's why Rusty keeps him around? And as for the man himself…" Rick exhaled slowly, traces of simmering anger dissipating as he did so. "Danny, we don't need them. We don't need _him_. We're smart, we're professionals, we can do this job in our sleep. We don't need to have anyone help us. We certainly don't need someone taking over. Why did Doug approach them? Why didn't he just come to us-"

"Little over two and a half years is a long time," Danny said harshly not looking at Rick. Staring at the football game. He felt the look. "Well, it is."

"You are a fucking _idiot_," Rick told him. "That's never gonna be the reason. Have you seen yourself in action, Danny? You're fucking Superman."

Danny laughed softly in spite of himself and some of the tension leaked away as he caught sight of Rick's earnest face.

"I'm telling you the truth," Rick went on. "Now you want to think of the real reason?"

It was the real reason and Danny wanted to argue the point but he saw the warning in Rick's eyes and sighed.

"Guess Doug doesn't mix in our circles much."

"_You've been recommended to me, gentlemen."_

Rick nodded slowly. "Covering all options. I guess. And I guess it's _possible_ they're going to prove useful. I mean the kid did do a good job getting the plans. And I suppose we've found a way in now." He looked sheepish. "Suppose I got a little riled earlier."

"Noticed. He knows you're going to react, Rick."

"Yeah." Rick ran a hand through his hair. "Suppose I know that too." He gave Danny a long and thoughtful look. "Don't let him take over, Danny. You're in charge. Remember that."

He would. He smiled. "Time to make the call."

Danny dialled and grinned at the squeal as it was answered.

"Danny!"

"Hey, Teresa. You alright? You had a nice day?"

"I went shopping and I bought such a pretty dress. It's blue and it has little flowers."

"Sounds pretty. Bet you look pretty wearing it."

She chattered further and he made little comments of acknowledgement and encouragement and then she said:

"You coming home soon? I can show you my dress."

Danny sighed. "Not soon, honey. Little while longer. But you be a good girl for me till I see you again."

"O-kay." There was a pause and then, "Is Rick there?"

"Yes, I'll put him on. Love you."

Rick took the phone.

"Yeah, Teresa, I'm here. Yeah. Yeah. I know. Yeah." He grinned at Danny. "I'm keeping both of us out of trouble. Yeah. Yeah. Me too. Take care, Teresa."

He hung up and passed Danny the phone.

"Girl worries too much."

Cloud shadowed Danny's face. "I don't like being away from her."

"She understands," Rick assured him and Danny turned troubled eyes on him.

"No, she doesn't."

* * *

Rusty knew Ed was feeling a little out of the action. The odd bit of praise helped and Rusty had smiled to himself as he saw Ed treasure up the words he'd offered. He knew it wasn't enough and it wasn't really surprising. They worked alone and he was happy to slow things down to Ed's pace so that the kid learned. And the kid did learn and learned fast. But working with Danny and Rick, a slick professional team, was different. Rusty couldn't afford to go slow. He needed to hold his own and trust Ed to keep up with the game plan. And Ed was doing a good job of containing himself and listening but he was bursting with questions.

He took a swig of beer and pored over the plans again. He had a route. He had two routes. But he didn't know if they were the best routes.

* * *

Eduardo waited until he was as sure as he could be that Rick and Danny had gone to bed. Then he cracked open the door to his room and stole silently along the room to Rusty's, knocking softly at the door and entering when permission was granted.

* * *

Opposite, Rick lay in bed and watched Eduardo in the full length mirror by his door and pursed his lips: he knew he had been right.

* * *

"What is it, kid?"

"I have been nodding and looking like I know what's going on. But I am not leaving this room until you've told me what the plan is, Rusty. What's an Uncle Charlie? What's a Reverse Susan?"

Guilt shot through him as he saw the confusion.

"Sorry, Ed. OK. Uncle Charlie has many other names. Washington Square, for instance." Eduardo looked at him blankly and Rusty could see he wasn't helping. "It's about a man charming a woman – conning a woman-"

"But Uncle Charlie?"

"Hitchcock. "Shadow of a Doubt". Character in there who's a ladykiller. Worms his way into women's confidences. That's what Danny's going to do with Alisha. Then we're going to set up the Reverse Susan."

"Which is?"

Rusty grinned. "This is going to take some time."

* * *

Danny was dreaming. Restless and driven and it was an old con. A con from way back with the ruby necklace in his jacket pocket and running, running away from the bad guys with Rick at his side and there was fear and anxiety and then he turned the corner into the bright sun of the Italian square (_"Piazza," a voice somewhere told him and he heard himself say "With extra peppers?") _and he was still running but it was different. It was exhilaration and it was fun and it was thrillsome and he looked to his right and instead of Rick, worried and sweating, there was Rusty, open and carefree, eyes sparkling, laughing as he ran and Danny was laughing and it was-

He woke up with a start.

What was _that _all about?

His throat was dry and he padded to the kitchen for a glass of water. As he was about to head back, he saw Eduardo slipping out of Rusty's room.

Huh. Looked like Rick might have been right about one thing.


	6. Involved

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: I did not create any Ocean's characters. I know you all know this.

Chapter Six: Involved

* * *

The following morning, the apartment was still and silent as Danny crossed to the bathroom. Rick opened the door as Danny was reaching out to try the handle.

"You sleep OK?"

There was a grunt from Rick. "No noise from the neighbours opposite, if that's what you mean."

Danny shook his head at him. "It wasn't."

"They are fucking," Rick said in a low and earnest voice and tapped Danny on the chest to make his point.

The image of Eduardo slipping out of Rusty's room flashed across Danny's brain.

"Does it matter?" he asked levelly.

"It does if it gets in the way of the job."

Danny sighed. "They both seem professional, I seriously doubt they're going to let it-"

"You wait till one or the other starts hitting on you," Rick warned darkly. "Or me."

"Is that what this is about? You worried that you're going to prove irresistible-"

"It could happen," Rick muttered and the grin was wide on Danny's face.

"You're right. You are God's gift to men. I mean those curls, those eyes…how have I contained myself all these years?" He grabbed Rick and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Get off," Rick pushed him away, laughing. "I'll see you downstairs."

* * *

Eduardo smiled a "Good morning" at Rick as he sat down at the table and Rusty paused in mid-forkful of bacon and nodded at him.

"Morning," Rick said, his voice neutral and Maria appeared behind the counter.

"I do bacon, egg, tomatoes, mushrooms and toast," she said.

Breakfast clearly wasn't up for debate. Not that it mattered. It all sounded good.

"Thanks."

There was a silence across the table and Rick hesitated between different ways to break it. He felt he kind of owed it to Danny to keep his temper in check. Rusty certainly didn't look like he was going to help. He saw Eduardo give him what appeared to be a sympathetic look and Rick felt his lip curling. He didn't want any wet behind the ears kid feeling sorry for him. Especially one with less than distinct lines of sexuality. And speaking of blurry lines…he glanced again at Rusty whose eyes were down the unfriendly end of unblinking.

Maria put the plate of food down in front of him.

"Thanks," he said again.

"Coffee is up behind the bar. You go help yourself."

"Thanks," he repeated and felt foolish.

"You're awfully grateful this morning, Rick."

Rusty's voice was as neutral as his own had been: a number of quick responses rose up to his lips and he bit back on them. Today, he wasn't going to be pushed.

"Danny gave me a list of stuff to get for tonight." He sliced through a tomato and shoved it into his mouth.

"Maybe I should give it a once over," Rusty suggested and damn, the tomato needed chewing and chewing and chewing and swallowing along with the anger.

"I'm sure Danny will have thought of everything," Rick said as pleasantly as he could manage. He cut into another piece of tomato: it was good to hide behind.

* * *

Rusty watched with satisfaction as the colour rose and fell in Rick and then Danny was walking down the stairs and sauntering across the room with that natural authority thing going on.

"Morning, Maria," Danny said as he walked. "Hope I'm not too late for breakfast."

Maria checked her watch. "You're in luck. I'm feeling in a good mood."

Danny sat down next to Rusty and smiled round the table. "So what have I missed?"

Rusty grinned. "Not sure. You missed me?"

"I'd say you're hard to miss," Danny told him.

"I'm going up for a coffee," Eduardo said. "Would you like me to get you a cup, Danny?"

"Thanks, Eduardo. Black, please."

"You want to get me one too?" Rick asked as Eduardo stood up.

"Only got two hands, Rick," Eduardo sighed with what almost sounded like regret and Rusty watched Rick's face dance between annoyance and amusement. It settled on the latter and Rick pushed the chair back and stood up.

"That told me."

"You want to get me one too?" Rusty asked with a straight face and smiled inside at the flicker of irritation that Rick was a little too slow to hide.

"Sure," Rick said. "Don't tell me. Milk and sugar?"

"Sugar for sure," he agreed, his eyes on Rick. "And I'll take milk if I can't get cream."

Rick's eyes narrowed and then as Eduardo and Rick headed off to do battle with the coffee pot at the bar, Danny's head tilted towards Rusty.

"Rick's a good guy," Danny said nonchalantly. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't...aggravate him."

Rusty's head moved a fraction towards him. "I don't like the way he looks at Eduardo."

"The kid?" Danny's voice was flavoured with surprise. "I didn't…well, I suppose I've been guilty of-"

"No." Rusty was definite. "You look at him like he's a kid. And he is. He happens to be a smart, talented kid, incidentally. But Rick looks at him like he's less than the dirt under his fingernails or the shit he flushes down the can and I will not tolerate that. I don't give a fuck how he looks at me but he will treat Ed with respect."

Danny's dark eyes met his and the look was appraising and searching and Rusty let him see the absolute protective. Ed was…well, it didn't make him any less his responsibility. This job was important and he owed it to Ed to make it happen. It was the reason they were there, after all. Still didn't mean he could curb his instincts and he was happy to take on Rick and he was happy to start in on Danny if necessary.

"OK," Danny nodded. "Rick's not always comfortable around-"

"-oh, I get that."

Amusement flashed on to Danny's face and off again.

"I was going to say strangers. People have to prove themselves." And as Rusty opened his mouth to point out that that worked both ways, Danny went on, "But I get that that's not helpful. I don't think he means any disrespect. He just doesn't know either of you well enough yet."

"You've known us the exact same length of time and I don't see you-"

"-Rick's always been of the opinion that we can work by ourselves. I'm a little more about reserving judgment."

"Gatsby," Rusty said without thinking.

"Yeah," and Danny's eyes smiled at him. "Look, let's say Eduardo works with Rick on the list. If he's as good as you say then Rick will lighten up. I guarantee it."

Rusty looked over as their partners walked back with the coffees and Maria approached with Danny's plate. "Then I guess Rick and I won't have any problem."

Danny nodded thoughtfully and something inside Rusty relaxed a little.

* * *

It was mid-morning and Rick was stood in the doorway of a shop, running a hand through his hair and looking down at the list. Danny had suggested Eduardo help out in a tone that said he expected Rick to agree and since Rusty was off in the bathroom at the time, Rick hadn't had a problem inviting the kid along. If only to see how real men operated. As it was, Eduardo had proved useful. He was even now moving through the crowd towards him, effortlessly, expertly. He had already brought in a handsome amount of cash and Rick smiled at him as he arrived and produced another handful of wallets.

"Rusty was right. You got a nice light touch," he said, stripping out the money.

Eduardo smiled back at him. "Grew up in a town with a lot of rich tourists. Temptation was everywhere."

"So how'd you two hook up?" It was casual and careful all at the same time.

Eduardo's eyes grew distant. "South of France. He was pulling a complicated little con. Something with a villa and a vineyard and I was after the same mark but with something a lot simpler in mind. I kind of got in the way."

"I'm sure you were a help rather than a distraction."

"I'd like to think I was both but…" Eduardo shook himself out of the memory and looked at Rick. "Anyway. The list."

The smile stayed on Rick's face: time for more background later. He scanned the list again and frowned. "Is he serious about these additions?"

_Rusty had asked politely to see the piece of paper and Rick had felt Danny wordlessly encouraging him to hand it over. Rusty'd nodded at it and then produced a pen and scribbled a couple of things on the bottom before handing it back to Rick._

Eduardo looked over Rick's shoulder. "Deadly serious."

* * *

Larner's, the auction house, was bustling as Rusty walked back through the doors. The auction was due to begin in less than half an hour and there seemed to be a number of interested parties. For a business with no name, there was certainly a buzz.

"Good to see you again, James." Alex, warm and friendly and genuinely pleased to see him. "You're sitting in on the auction for your boss, of course."

"Of course," Rusty smiled.

It had taken only a couple of exchanges the previous day for Rusty to work out that Alex's role was important but not managerial and it had taken seconds for his identity to become that of an agent, there to scout out pieces and bid on behalf of Leonard Davison, a rich but reticent collector. Rusty felt certain he was going to get more out of Alex if Alex felt they were equals.

"Here, please have a programme. I'm afraid I'm going to be tied up with the lots-"

"Thanks, Alex, and that's fine. I can look after myself."

"OK, James." Alex looked regretful and Rusty laid a hand lightly on his arm and looked at him under his lashes.

"But maybe you can show me to a good seat?"

* * *

Across the room, Danny saw the little gesture and the look and the flirt and the instantaneous effect on Alex and pursed his lips contemplatively. Rusty was good. Alex looked like he was positively shining with eagerness.

"Can I help you, sir?"

Alisha was at his shoulder, bright eyes and wide smile and Danny turned up the charm and the smile and saw the light of attraction dance across Alisha's face.

"Well, miss-"

"Alisha."

"Alisha," he repeated, caressing all three syllables. "My name is Charles Mortimer and I have a piece I'm thinking of selling. I just called by to see how Larner's compared to the big boys."

"Well, Mr Mortimer, we like to think we're right up there. I'm sure you'll find us very accommodating."

"I'm sure." The girl really wasn't subtle.

"In fact, we have an auction about to take place. Perhaps you would like to sit in."

"Perhaps I would."

* * *

Rusty saw Alisha sashay past him, Danny in tow and she sat Danny down on the left a couple of rows ahead. He saw Alisha pushing a programme into Danny's hands and leaning over him, all pout and proverbial, making sure he was settled before she left him. Rusty smiled to himself. Danny was good.

* * *

Rick had a solid network of New York underground contacts and Eduardo was watching Rick haggle over the final entries on the list: the things that they simply couldn't steal, the items that they didn't have time to deal with with any finesse.

Eduardo had been impressed by Rick. He'd been efficient and effective and in return whilst Rick hadn't and was probably never likely to be effusive, he'd given him a couple of curt nods of approbation and a few words of approval and Eduardo had felt himself smile. He never felt like he was in Rusty's shadow but it was nice to be seen in his own right.

Rusty. The two years he had spent with Rusty had been amazing. Unbelievable. Beyond any and every thing he could imagine. He'd learned so much and Rusty had been…Rusty was…Eduardo swallowed. Rusty was. And that was the problem.

* * *

A/N: Gatsby reference is "Reserving judgment is a matter of infinite hope". One of my favourite books, one of my favourite quotes.


	7. AbNorming

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own any Ocean creation. But my son has a nifty line in drawing jellyfish.

Chapter Seven: (Ab)Norming

* * *

Danny didn't plan to stay for the whole of the auction. He stayed long enough to look at the room and the exits and the cameras; he studied the auctioneer, polished and professional and he spotted Alex, clipboard in hand, organising the porters and the lots and glancing out at the audience; as for the atmosphere in the room…there was something and Danny wasn't sure what. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. The audience was for the most part interested and engaged and there were people bidding and winning and losing… He shook himself. Roundabout now, Rick would be raising his eyebrows and telling him to focus.

At the changeover of lots, Danny stood up and excused himself and walked down the aisle, aware of Rusty, sitting back in his chair, legs crossed, gazing with what might be mistaken for interest at the latest offering.

Alisha was at her desk when he left the hall and he nodded at her and she half-rose but he walked straight past and noted with satisfaction the disappointment as she sat down again. This was going to be a slow burn and this visit was all about sowing seeds for next time.

Danny saw the main bank of elevators behind the dealers' desks flanked by stairwells and he stood in the foyer and visibly hesitated, looking round, his eyes pinpointing the windows, the security on show, the security lying beneath the surface… He didn't move until a young and nervous employee wondered if he could assist and Danny asked for the men's room.

"It's right there, sir," said Young and Nervous, pointing at the corner and Danny rolled his eyes at himself and went to use the facilities.

* * *

There was something about the auction that was niggling at Rusty: he just wasn't sure what. The lots were mediocre and the bids were unremarkable and Alex was giving him shy smiles every now and then and he just couldn't identify what was the issue. He frowned to himself and pushed it to one side. It would come to him. Sometimes ignoring was the best policy.

* * *

Maria's face remained admirably neutral as Eduardo and Rick returned, accompanied by various pieces of equipment. She stopped Eduardo and unzipped one of the bags he was carrying for a closer inspection. Whatever she was looking for did not appear to be there and she nodded and stepped back.

"You should get a job in customs," Eduardo told her as they started to climb the stairs.

She flashed bare teeth at him and Eduardo reminded himself she was on their side. Probably.

"If they paid better than the bar I would do," she called after him and he was almost sure she was joking.

"Come on." Rick pulled him upstairs.

* * *

Danny had wandered out of Larner's and into the bar on the corner. He ordered a beer and a sandwich and sat down to digest what he'd learned. Alisha. The layout. The auction. After a while, he gave up and concentrated on his meal. It was probably that he was still out of practice; it was more likely that he just missed the sounding board of Rick sitting opposite and offering up common sense and likely explanations; even so he couldn't shake the feeling that there were more pieces to this puzzle.

* * *

It was gone two by the time the auction wrapped up and Rusty stood and stretched imperceptibly. He'd bid on one carefully chosen piece, going up against a woman in the row in front of him. Watching her body language, reading her face, he'd known when to pull out of the bidding gracefully. Just as well. He wasn't certain what he'd do with a lump of wood and a kneeler cushion. He wasn't really certain what anyone would do with it. It seemed to be a little bit elaborate for gardening.

As people started walking away, he found Alex at his side.

"Nothing of real interest?" Alex asked.

"Wouldn't say that," Rusty replied with a smile and Alex flushed and recovered.

"Of course, the prie-dieux." So _that_ was what it was. Rusty was none the wiser. "Look, there's this bar on the corner and we go to it all the time and I don't know if you had plans for lunch…well, a late lunch…"

The timing was wrong. Alex probably had information that was helpful but if he and Danny were going to be in position in time, then he needed to move.

"Sorry, Alex." His expression was sincere apology. "I have another appointment. But maybe another time?"

"Sure." And Alex was doing a good job of keeping disappointment away from his face.

* * *

"That's the last of it," Rick said, reaching into the holdall and pulling out the overalls. "Think we're set."

The equipment was carefully laid out ready for inspection. Not that it needed it: they'd found everything they'd been asked for.

"You want a drink?" Rick was heading into the kitchen. "Reckon we've got a while before Danny and Rusty get back."

"Beer. Thanks."

He came back out with two beers and bags of chips and dropped down to the couch next to Eduardo and smiled at him.

"Here you go, kid." Rick handed him a beer and grinned. "Nice work today. You done that kind of thing before?"

* * *

The narrow little street at the back of Larner's was deserted. Danny had dropped round there intent on checking the service access. There shouldn't be any problem. They'd need to override the code in the elevator but as people rarely changed them from the factory default settings, he doubted he was going to have to hotwire the thing.

"Looks a clean enough way in."

Danny didn't jump but he came perilously close to it as Rusty melted out of the shadows.

Rusty looked at him and grinned. "Did I scare you?"

"No," Danny said shortly.

"You sure? You have the word _"Fuck" _written right across your face at the moment."

"I'm just amazed that you can hide successfully in that shirt."

It was silver and shiny with some sort of delicate embossed pattern on it that looked like it was a message in Braille. Danny thought back to the morning and the conversation around Rick and Eduardo. Probably a warning that the contents were unpredictable and had potential to explode.

An expression of extreme offence materialised and Danny was almost sure it was an act.

"This shirt was a gift."

Danny studied it again critically. "They can't have liked you very much."

The grin reappeared. "Come on, let's head back."

Danny cast an eye over the back of the building.

"I've got it all, don't worry. We need to get ready. Also, we need to find food."

"Oh, I've eaten," Danny told him.

Rusty just looked at him and Danny felt his mouth twitching. Right. Not really the point.

* * *

Eduardo looked up as the door opened and Rusty walked in with a tray of something fried and a fork followed by Danny who was holding a bag of Krispy Kremes.

"There would be krill," Rusty was pointing out in between mouthfuls.

Eduardo smiled. One of Rusty's wayward conversations that started from a point of almostlogic and disappeared fast down the road of tangents and the twisted.

"But could man live by krill alone?" Danny was musing as he shut the door.

Rusty pushed the empty polystyrene tray at him and took the doughnuts. "This man couldn't."

"Krill?" The question came from Rick and they both looked over.

"We were talking about places to live," Danny explained.

"Different places we had lived," Rusty went on.

"And we were just debating how long you could survive in a whale."

"_Who_ survives in a whale?" Rick's face was quizzical.

"Pinocchio." "Jonah." The answers came simultaneously and were followed by mutual soft laughter.

"Which of you lived in a whale?" Eduardo wanted to know. He wasn't sure about Danny but anything was possible with Rusty.

"Neither of us," Danny assured him. "We were just-"

"-considering options," Rusty finished with a mouthful of sugar. He looked over at the equipment. "How'd you get on?"

* * *

He saw Eduardo's face light up.

"We got everything. And Rick was great."

Rusty's eyes focused on Rick, sitting back on the couch, beer in hand, relaxed and smiling.

"Eduardo was a real help," Rick said and there was a look on his face that told Rusty he was seeing Eduardo with fresh eyes, that he was seeing Ed had genuine value. Good. Good. That was as it should be.

* * *

Now that he was looking for it, Danny could see Rick's attitude towards the kid and something had definitely shifted. Rick was a hundred percent more comfortable around Eduardo and Danny smiled to himself. Good.

"How'd it go today?" Rick asked.

"Fine," Danny said. "Met Alisha, built a few bridges, sat in on the auction…" He hesitated. There was still something about the… He saw Rick's eyes on him bringing him back to the real world and the concrete. "Sat in for most of the auction and then checked out the rest of downstairs that was on show."

"And I nearly bought a prie-dieux," Rusty added and glanced round the room. "Don't know where we'd have put it though."

"Did you see Alex?"

The question was natural flow and innocent enough but still Danny stared at Rick's face, bland and polite: just by the way Rusty's weight tipped slightly forward on to one foot, Danny was certain Rusty was wondering about the motivation for asking too.

"Yes," Rusty said apparently deciding to take the question as being without any hidden agenda. "He was still friendly and he still seems a reasonable line in to running of the place. Might need to explore that relationship further."

The last sentence was a test. Danny saw it at once. An opportunity for Rick to deliver a quick and biting riposte and Rick said precisely nothing. He simply nodded gravely as if considering Rusty's words. Danny exhaled and was surprised to find he'd been holding his breath.

"Clothes are on your beds," Rick told them. "Figured you'd want to pack the bags yourselves."

"Yeah. Thanks." Rusty nodded. "Looks like you've been very thorough."

Danny felt the smile bubbling under. The tension from yesterday had disappeared and the four of them were going to be able to get along, to work together. Relief flooded through him.

A/N: edited because my Biblical knowledge let me down at 5.30 in the morning. Huh. That might be the time when I need it most.


	8. Discovery

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own, don't own.

Chapter Eight: Discovery

* * *

Danny had volunteered to let Maria know there would be no one around to eat dinner. She wasn't behind the bar and he wandered out the back looking for her. He found her struggling with a heavy crate.

"Here. Let me." Danny swung it up on the shelf with ease and she gave him a cool nod of thanks that had _"I am not a helpless woman" _behind it.

"We're all going out," Danny went on as they walked back through to the bar. "I just wanted to tell you. And to thank you, by the way. The chilli last night was terrific and well, you're really looking after us."

Maria gave a slight smile. "S'alright. Long as I don't lose part of the wall again."

It was cryptic up until the point where Danny remembered. Explosions. Right. And intriguing though that was, Danny parked the thought because there was something else he needed to ask because she had handled Rusty's arrival with them all in tow and the need to provide shelter and food as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

"Do you mind me asking why?" Smile and gentle and unthreatening.

Maria looked at him, cool and considering.

"Saul knew my father," she said eventually. "When Poppa died, Saul made sure the bar came to me."

More cryptic. Danny stared at her. "And who's Saul?"

She didn't answer for a moment and when she did, it wasn't directly. "Saul used to stay over sometimes. Sometimes he brought Rusty and Mitch."

"Saul's Rusty's dad?" It sounded like that. The way she said it. Saul sounded like family.

She considered for a moment and shrugged. "Kind of, I guess."

Rusty's father. And because family was important, because family mattered, the next question came immediately and without a second thought.

"And where's Saul now?"

"Saul's dead."

"What about Mitch?"

"Guess he's dead too."

And her eyes told him there was more to tell and that she was not about to tell it.

* * *

Rusty stuck his head round the door.

"Ed? You got a minute?"

Eduardo joined him as he was busy pulling on the dirty overalls over the top of the black turtleneck and ski pants.

"You want me to tell you whether or not you look good in those?"

Rusty grinned. "Actually, I just want to make sure you're set for tonight."

"Yes, I'm fine. Rick and I are going to follow Alisha back to her place and then hopefully there'll be an Anton or if not, then at least Rick's got a point to start digging."

"You had a good day?" Rusty wanted to check while Ed was on his own.

"Told you. I had a great day."

Rusty nodded, satisfied. "Good."

"I see you're breaking Danny in," Eduardo smiled. "Got him carrying dessert for you." There was the slightest of pauses. "He seems nice."

"He does seem nice," Rusty agreed. "I like the way he thinks and I like the way he operates. He's very professional."

Ed's eyes were wondering around another question that he would never ask. Rusty answered it anyway.

"And I also get the feeling he's very conventional."

Eduardo flushed and started to stammer out something and Rusty took pity on him.

"Do me a favour, Ed, just go grab me a beer, would you?"

Eduardo disappeared and Rusty's thoughts turned briefly to Danny. Nice really wasn't the word. Nice was about the surface and society. Nice was what Danny might show to the world but there was more going on here. Rusty thought about dark eyes standing up to him and about ideas and approaches and about charm and smile being deployed: Rusty felt he had been right about deep waters.

He studied his reflection critically in the mirror. Not quite Peter Venkman. He pulled the cap on and thought briefly about the life of the man who might wear the overalls and who might be doing this job. Mike Garrett, maybe. He could be a Mike. Married to Tina, three kids and another on the way. Not a moment's peace at home and working at a job that he didn't particularly enjoy but at least it got him out of the house. Earned enough to put bread on the table and kept a little back to go out at night and drink with the boys. Friday night card games were the highlight of his week even though he usually lost more times than he won.

Rusty looked at the surly face in the mirror and nodded. He could be a Mike.

* * *

As Ed disappeared into Rusty's room with a beer, Danny was sat on the couch, dressed and ready to go and on the phone to Teresa.

"You had a happy day? Good. _Good._"

Rick was almost certain that he knew what that was about. Who that was about. He recognised the tone. He bit his lip and waited.

"Alright, sweetheart. I do too. Yes, I know. Not soon. Little while longer. Yes, he is. Hold on. Love you."

Danny passed the phone over to Rick and Rick listened to chatter and excitement and questions and a question and he handled it all and hung up.

"Felicity called round," Danny said and Rick nodded. Felicity Hudson. Neighbour and self-appointed guardian. He'd guessed correctly. "Teresa said they baked."

Rick's gaze travelled to behind Danny where Rusty was stood, beer in hand and curiosity nowhere near his face.

* * *

They had packed up the bags and they had walked downstairs to an audience of Maria and a handful of customers who had drifted in. The customers hadn't been that interested and Maria's eyes had been watchful but she'd said nothing. Still Danny felt a little self-conscious.

"Do you think we should be in disguise or something?" he asked Rusty as they hit the street.

"We _are_ in disguise."

"I mean maybe we should have beards or moustaches or..." he tailed off. "Or something."

Rusty was silent and studied Danny's face. "No," he said firmly. "No anything."

Danny didn't want to let it go.

"But wouldn't it help? Disguises help, right?"

"Usually."

"Well, then." Danny felt stubborn on this point.

"You're not very…" Rusty sighed. "OK. Disguise."

Rusty dropped down and scooped up some dirt. He smeared it across Danny's cheek in one broad stroke.

"There you go. People will see the smudge. Not you."

Danny pursed his lips. "Not what I had in mind."

"I know," Rusty grinned.

* * *

Rick and Eduardo took up position in the park opposite with newspapers and coffees and waited for 5pm.

"You got a good idea on visual?"

Eduardo nodded. Doug had been very descriptive if not particularly detailed. _"Skin like...and hair. Dark hair...and lips..."_ Rusty had helped fill in the gaps.

* * *

The service elevator had proved as unproblematic as Danny had imagined. Rusty and he had arrived at the roof and were currently contemplating the window cleaning cradle.

"Don't suppose you've ever…"

"Nah." Rusty was studying the lockdown mechanism intently, a small wrap of thin tapered metallic tools spread out in front of him.

"But it's only a lock, right?"

Rusty selected one of the tools and deftly applied it until there was a satisfying click.

"Right," he agreed.

Manoeuvring the cradle was a little hit and miss but Danny eventually mastered the controls and swung them into position at the back of the building. He looked over the side at the street below. They weren't _that_ high. It was hardly the Empire State. They were still high enough though and he dropped back down, grateful for the metal sides that offered some sort of illusion of four walls. Of course the wind gently blowing through his hair and the fact that there was no ceiling was less comforting. He looked over at Rusty, sitting opposite, eyes closed, looking for all the world as if he were leaning up against any wall. Danny swallowed and closed his own eyes and wished he had Rick with him. Rick would be talking and cracking jokes and Danny wouldn't be thinking about cables and sidewalks and drops and whether you could actually scream as you plummeted to your certain death because awnings wouldn't slow you up much and unless you happened to be the love interest of a superhero, no one was going to save-

Something was pushed into his hand and his fingers closed around what felt like a bar of Hershey's. He opened his eyes and checked. It was. Rusty already had the wrapper peeled on his bar and was two bites in.

"Thanks," Danny said and tore into it, the chocolate offering up reality and normal and something solid.

Rusty was giving him a thoughtful look. "You should have said."

Danny shrugged it off. "Nothing to say. I can handle it."

"Had you down as more Cary Grant than Jimmy Stewart."

Danny chuckled. "You can be Jimmy. Then we just need to find Katharine Hepburn."

* * *

Tailing Alisha had been straightforward enough. She had emerged from Larner's with a couple of colleagues and had excused herself from their company. As they had disappeared towards the bar on the corner, she had headed in the other direction.

"Looks like Little Miss Gold Digger's got another appointment."

"Let's hope it's a date with Anton."

They tracked her through the crowds and the subway and the streets to the ground floor apartment. Now, it was just a waiting game.

* * *

Another waiting game was going on several feet above New York as the sunset blazed. The conversation had roamed happily through movies and at some point, Rusty had come back to himself enough to be able to study Danny's face objectively. The fear which had been well-disguised in the first place was buried deep inside again. And there was light and animation and charisma…huh.

"Penny for them?"

Rusty grinned. "Just thinking about you in action today. Alisha looked very taken."

There was a flash of something - guilt? Why guilt? - and then the easy smile was back on Danny's face. "I could say the same for Alex."

"Yeah..." Rusty shifted a bit and grimaced. Alex seemed altogether _too_ interested.

"Eduardo," Danny said softly and Rusty stared at him.

"Ed?"

"Doesn't feel right, does it?" Danny's gaze had dropped to his hands, knitted together in his lap.

Rusty realised and opened his mouth to correct that assumption and then closed it again. Danny wasn't talking about Rusty anymore. And since he'd meant what he'd said to Eduardo about Danny's preferences, he seriously doubted Danny was thinking of Rick.

"Even if...I mean I'm not planning on sleeping with her...it still feels like-"

"-cheating." Rusty finished and Danny lifted dark eyes edged with pain and nodded. Some girl. Some place.

"Rick doesn't...I don't think he gets it. But then he's...well, he hasn't got..."

"Rhythm?"

Danny laughed. "That's true."

"You gotta use what you're given in life," Rusty said more seriously. "I do."

Danny nodded again. "And there's a line. I do know that there's a line."

Rusty's gaze flickered and then he studied the sky. "Not long now."

* * *

The curtains were back and Rick and Eduardo were rewarded for the long wait by the arrival of a man who was buzzed in to the apartment and who had Alisha's arms thrown round him and who looked like a dead ringer for Anton. Even though Doug's description had been vague, there was enough there to match.

The couple weren't planning a night in. They emerged and disappeared down the street towards a nearby restaurant.

"You want to buy me dinner?" Eduardo asked and Rick glared at him.

"Fuck," he muttered. "Come on."

* * *

The sky was silver and blue one side of them and faint traces of orange on the other: it would soon be showtime. They had abandoned their overalls and Rusty was busy delving into one of the bags, digging out the glass cutter and the pads.

"You have any idea who recommended you to Doug?" Danny asked suddenly.

"Not sure," Rusty shrugged. "Don't work much in the States. Ed and I've only been over a couple of times." He looked up. "You know who suggested you and Rick?"

Danny thought about time away and people who might think about time before and reputation.

"Think it might have been a guy called Reuben. He runs a place out in Vegas and we've done some work for him."

The shadow of Belize rose up in the back of his mind and he pushed it away.

"Reuben Tishkoff?"

Danny squinted through the gathering darkness at Rusty who shrugged.

"Met him in the summer in Monte Carlo. He's quite a character."

Reuben...flamboyant and funny and outrageous and dramatic and trusting and full of belief and how he'd hated letting Reuben down.

"He's certainly that."

Rusty pulled the circuit breaker out and tossed it to Danny.

"Let's go."


	9. Revelations

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: I didn't create Rusty or Danny.

Chapter Nine: Revelations

**

* * *

**

SomeWhere… SomeTime…

"You come to see me again?"

"Maybe I like your company."

The other did not look convinced.

"Maybe you want to see the pieces."

She studied the board and her nose wrinkled. "Chess. Not my favourite game."

"Skill not luck," the other suggested.

"Maybe…" she picked up a couple of pieces and then put them back in their places before she turned on her heel and walked away.

"Leaving already?"

She glanced over her shoulder.

"Maybe I've seen all I want to see."

And then as she turned back, she smiled where the other couldn't see because luck lingered.

* * *

The glass came away easily and they looked inside at quiet and dark and still which were really three of the best adjectives someone breaking and entering could encounter. Wiring was identified; sensors were located; devices were employed. A short time later, wearing ski-masks, Danny and Rusty stepped into a room that had every appearance of being a store room and a little used one at that.

Immediately, Rusty crouched down, searching for somewhere to fasten the abseil lines. Abseil lines and the Hershey bars had been his contribution to the list. Rusty firmly believed in life, liberty, more than one exit and the pursuit of chocolate. He found a convenient place for the clips and left them in two separate coils.

"You want to stop and do that now?"

"You want to stop and do it later?"

"You think these will hold us?"

"I like the idea we may never find out." Rusty got to his feet and pulled large boxes that contained toilet rolls and photocopier paper in front of the ropes to hide them then headed for the door. "This way."

* * *

Eduardo was enjoying himself.

Rick had hissed at him not to get any ideas and to act normal and Eduardo had nodded solemnly and wished that Rusty was there. Though thinking about it, it was probably better that he wasn't. Now he was sat opposite Rick, watching the restaurant behind him in the mirror while Rick watched what was in front of him.

"Ready to order, gentlemen?"

"Soup and steak," Rick said in a no-nonsense fashion.

"Asparagus hollandaise and mushroom risotto," Eduardo smiled and Rick's jaw set firmly. "And do you have any of those little olives?"

The waiter nodded a "_Certainly, sir" _and said nothing else, not out loud and not silently. Far too well-trained for either. He melted away and Rick's gaze was stony.

"What?" Eduardo asked innocently and Rick gave a half-snort.

* * *

They escaped from the storeroom and Rusty led the way unerringly down the empty corridor, Danny padding after him. Back at Maria's apartment, Rusty had started going over the details of the route and Danny had forced himself to concentrate. Rick rarely made him work so hard.

"_According to the plans, there are no cameras on this level," Rusty had said._

"_Can we trust the plans?" _

"_Until the point where we can't. But the masks will help."_

There was a noise from around a corner and in a swift movement, Danny dropped to his knee and worked on the lock of a door. The door opened and he and Rusty disappeared into what appeared to be a janitor's closet.

* * *

Anton and Alisha were oblivious to their audience. Small gestures and little looks and tiny smiles. But there was one thing that Eduardo was completely sure about. And when he leant across the table and whispered his opinion, Rick squinted and nodded immediate agreement and didn't even pull a face at whether or not it looked like Eduardo was flirting with him.

Alisha was completely taken with Anton: Anton was somewhat less than infatuated.

* * *

Other things should be taking priority. There should be focus and desperate attention to detail and absolute concentration and there _were_ those things, really, there were. It was just that they had been occupying this tiny room with mops and cleaning materials for what seemed like an age now, so long that the ski-masks were in their hands and Danny had a mind that needed to be busy.

"What?" Low and searching.

Guiltily, Danny brought himself back from meandering thought to see Rusty staring at him intently.

"Sorry," he apologised quickly and imagined Rick's face hiding the very real exasperation and urging him to apply himself to the problem in hand.

"No, what?"

He looked again at Rusty, genuinely interested and he hesitated and then shrugged.

"Just something with the auction today. It didn't feel right and it's bothering me. It's nothing. Sorry."

"It's not nothing." Rusty's words were quiet but meant. "I felt it too."

"You did?"

"Yeah. Just something in the room…"

"Right," Danny went on eagerly. He thought of the room and the people bidding for lots. "Thing with an auction is that it's like a poker game. People-playing. Knowing when to raise, when to fold, knowing when to walk away. But today…"

"There was some of that," Rusty looked like he was replaying the auction in his head. "But some of those bidding…"

"They knew they were going to win," Danny said with sudden conviction. "Like a card game with a stacked deck. That's what was wrong."

"Yeah!" Rusty agreed fervently. "That's exactly it! And not to say anything but some of those pieces were-"

"-completely-"

"-not even house room-"

"-second-rate."

They stared at each other.

"Why?" Rusty asked simply and Danny frowned. He hadn't worked that out yet.

The voices outside drifted away and they both turned to the door.

"Time to go," Rusty said and they moved on.

* * *

Whatever Alisha's plans for the evening might be, Anton had different ideas. And when Alisha found out, she was seriously unimpressed to the point where a quantity of wine was tipped and a number of words were shouted and there was a certain amount of storming out. Rick watched the red wine dripping down Anton's face and then Anton grabbed a napkin and wiped himself down.

"You all get a good look?" Anton asked the silent restaurant and the gentle murmur started up around him.

"OK, let's settle up," Rick said. "I'll take Anton and you head back to Alisha's."

* * *

They were peering round a corner at two men with coffee in their hands, shooting the breeze.

"We need to get through that door they're using as a back rest."

Danny sighed. "Can't you just do what you did with Alex and flutter your eyelashes at them?"

"They're not my type."

"Is now the time to be fussy? And what is your type anyway?"

Rusty glared at him. "Not them."

* * *

Alisha had gone straight home. Eduardo looked thoughtfully at the outside of the apartment with a view to checking out the inside the next day. His gaze fell on the little courtyard in front of the building and his eyes gleamed. Rusty would be proud of the way he was thinking.

* * *

Anton headed to one of the darker sides of town. Rick drank in two bars and watched Anton flash cash and plough through whisky before going into a third and disappearing out the back.

Curiously, Rick wandered up to the entrance and a large man smiled a no entry. Rick held his hands up. No problem here. And then he moved back to the bar and had another drink.

* * *

The men had gone and Danny and Rusty had moved on. They had stopped and started as they went and the rooms they had gone into had been storage or empty offices or just empty. One had been some kind of staff room complete with vending machine full of snacks and Rusty had felt the look from Danny.

"Like I would." He rolled his eyes and Danny's face said he still didn't believe him.

In the first office they found, Rusty had tried one of the PCs and Danny had tried one of the filing cabinets.

"You got anything?" Rusty asked.

"Delivery notes…customs notices…blank shipping slips…nothing startling. What about you?"

"Password protected…can't break through without some technical help."

"Second visit?"

"Guess so. Let's keep looking."

Ten minutes later, they were still emptyhanded and none the wiser. They were about to leave the room when they heard footsteps approaching and they dropped back, watching the corridor through a crack in the door. It was Alex. Walking slowly and talking with a man society would have down as tall, dark and handsome. Dark eyes and a sensuous mouth that said it took pleasure in life. A man who exuded purpose and intent.

"Paperwork's complete and the shipments are ready to go," Alex was saying.

"What about incoming goods?"

Alex flicked through the black A4 padded book he was carrying.

"Two drops scheduled for this week…should be with us by Thursday."

"Paper, rock or scissors?"

Danny blinked and realised Rusty was glancing at him. _Any clue? _Rusty's bemused face was saying and Danny shook his head.

"Both paper."

The dark-haired man gave a grunt of approval.

"Next auction is lined up for two weeks' time," Alex went on. "We should have pulled in enough pieces by then."

"Good. On target then."

"Do we know when Mr Fitzwilliam is visiting, Constantine?" The question was a little nervous in nature as if Alex might have asked a couple of times before and thought he was pushing the point.

Constantine didn't appear to notice the hesitation and shrugged. "Some time next month. I'll get Tony to open up the suites and hire in the help as usual."

"He and his men will want access to all floors though, won't they? I'm thinking about the elevator and how many cards-."

"Yes, yes." Constantine sounded impatient with logistical details. "It won't take long to prepare them."

There was a brief silence and then Alex asked hesitantly, "Have we done OK? Will Mr Fitzwilliam be pleased?"

Constantine's voice had a smile in it. "We've done very well, little brother. Mr Fitzwilliam will be delighted. Especially with some of the outside pieces we've had through. They've been extremely profitable."

Alex flicked through the folder again and nodded.

"The Van Meer and the Canaletto both did especially well. And the 8th Dynasty vase was-"

Constantine cut across him with a yawn. "You headed for bed or do you want a nightcap?"

"Nightcap sounds good. My place?"

"It's closest."

And they headed off towards the elevator.

Danny looked at Rusty.

"Well, that was the single most interesting thing we've heard all evening."

* * *

"What is that godawful smell?" Rick asked as he walked back through the door.

"Brought Alisha's garbage sack back with me," Eduardo confessed. "Maria wouldn't let me bring it up here-"

"Good call, Maria."

"-but I still needed to sort through it." Eduardo frowned down at the pieces of paper laid out on the table like a jigsaw. "I think I got everything."

Rick's nose wrinkled. "What is it?" he asked from a safe distance.

"Alisha's bank statement." Just a hint of triumph.

"Wow." Smell momentarily forgotten, Rick moved to his side and peered over his shoulder. "Excellent work."

"Yeah. Just going to sellotape them together."

"And then you shower," Rick instructed and Eduardo nodded agreement.

* * *

"Let's call it a night," Danny suggested after they'd opened yet another door and found nothing. "We won't get up to the next floor if the elevator's card controlled."

"Yeah…" Rusty reluctantly agreed and thought about the overheard conversation. "Guess we've got enough to be going on with."

* * *

"How'd you get on?" Eduardo asked once he'd showered and dressed.

"Followed lover boy until I found his guilty secret." Rick's eyes were shining.

"Has Alisha got competition?"

"From a real bitch."

* * *

They returned to the very first room, left the lines coiled under the window, climbed out into the cradle and removed the circuit breaker. Danny shrugged his way back into the overalls as Rusty lifted the glass back and taped it lightly but firmly into place.

"It'll hold. For next time."

There was going to be a next time, almost certainly.

* * *

Rick had poured him a drink and then another and they'd sat on the couch and talked about jobs and marks and techniques.

"Nothing like the buzz of making money, is there?"

Eduardo thought about the buzz of working with Rusty and he smiled to himself.

"You get on well with Rusty, don't you?"

"He's amazing," Eduardo said sincerely. "I've never met anyone like him."

"Yeah…I feel that way about Danny. He's special." Ricks voice was soft and Eduardo's eyes glazed over with memory.

"Rusty's…well, there's just this aura about him. And when he turns up the charm…Men and women. They can't help themselves."

Rick swirled his whisky around the glass. "Men and women?" he murmured.

"Yeah…" Eduardo was lost in other times and other places.

"Does he ever…follow through on the charm?"

The smile slipped away from Eduardo. "Sometimes."

"Men and women." Statement not question.

"Yes." Tight and a little miserable and Rick topped up his glass.

"That must sting, kid." Sympathetic and Eduardo nodded and gulped the whisky down.

* * *

Trouble never behaved itself and turned up when you expected it. That was why it was so well-named.

As they exited the back street and headed towards the subway, there was a group of half a dozen men, drinking and occupying a corner under a streetlight. One of them stood deliberately in Rusty's path.

"'Scuse me," Rusty mumbled, head down, insignificant, no bother, don't mind me…

"Why what have you done?" the man belched and laughed raucously at his own joke.

Rusty felt Danny's shoulder pressing up against his and he read the tension and the anticipation and the readiness and his own fingers gripped the bag he was carrying a little tighter.

"Don't want no hassle," Danny's voice was quiet and soothing and a trace of Bronx. Feeding back to the man his own accent, his own class, putting himself and by implication Rusty on the man's level. Rusty took time out from the inevitability of where things were going to end up to approve of Danny's instincts.

The man laughed softly, his face scarlet with drink and aggression. "You know I'm going to have to hit one of you."

"Well, I'd really rather it wasn't me," Rusty said, his voice ringing with sincerity and he felt the look Danny was giving him and for the tiniest moment, he wondered if Danny actually thought-

"You want him to hit _me_?" Hurt and with a hint of belligerence.

"I just don't want to be hit."

"Some kind of friend you are! All these years I've known you-"

"Aw, don't take it to heart, Sidney-"

"How am I supposed to take it?" Danny turned and addressed the group of men and they were unsuspecting, enjoying the quarrel, near enough spread out… "We known each other these eight years…our kids play together, our wives shop together…" Danny took a step forward and the man who had initiated the confrontation took an unconscious step backwards and that left room… "You'd think in all that time there'd be a little-"

Danny's fist struck a jaw and Rusty swung the bag hard at the middle of the man in front of him and was satisfied by the pained "oof" as the man dropped down to the ground. And then they were off and running.

Pursuit surely shouldn't have happened. They surely weren't that interesting and the men were surely too drunk to be co-ordinated about things but as the footsteps pounded impossibly after them, Rusty realised he might be sorely wrong on such matters.

Danny took a turn into an alleyway that looked like you could barely get a car down it and then they went round a blind corner and the alleyway opened up a little and they were faced with a high wire fence.

Rusty didn't hesitate. He dropped the bag and threw himself at the fence and swung himself down the other side.

"Bags!" he shouted and Danny threw them over and started to climb.

A well-aimed bottle exploded on the fence near Danny's left hand and he lost his grip.

"Come on!" Rusty urged but Danny wasn't going to make it, the men were rounding the corner and slowing down and Danny wasn't going to make it…

* * *

He slipped back down to the alley floor and he knew without turning his head that they were nearly upon him.

"Go!" he shouted at Rusty and he saw Rusty stare at him and then look behind him and nod and grab the bags and run.

As the hand fell on his shoulder to spin him round, Danny watched Rusty disappearing to safety and wondered at the sudden sense of abandonment.

* * *

They were clumsy hitters made clumsier by the alcohol but the punches they landed still hurt. They were concentrating on body blows and Danny dully supposed he should be grateful for that.

He flopped in the hands of the men who held his arms and hoped they might loosen their grip. No chance. And Danny suddenly had the vision that they were going to hit him until they put him down on the ground and then kick him and if he were lucky, he would wake up the other side.

There was a noise somewhere. Familiar and not unexpected in a city and then the noise got closer and closer and the men hitting him broke off and the hands holding him were suddenly not so insistent and maybe, maybe…

A car screeched round the corner, horn blaring, lights flashing and the men dropped back with surprise and Danny ran for it.

As he neared the car, the passenger door opened and he glimpsed Rusty behind the wheel. Danny dove in and slammed the door shut and Rusty shifted the car into reverse, pulling away at high speed from danger and violence.

The walls of the alley flew past and then they were out on the clear street and Rusty threw the car into first and sped off.

"You alright?" he asked and Danny just smiled stupidly at him.

"What?" Rusty asked.

Danny said nothing and continued to smile.

"Yeah, well," Rusty shrugged as if irritated at being caught out in sentiment. "You haven't worked out that auction house yet, have you?"

Danny closed his eyes and laid his head back against the seat, his smile still firmly in place.


	10. Remembering

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: Not mine, no way, no how.

A/N: some answers. Also, sorry.

Chapter Ten: Remembering

* * *

The car was abandoned.

"Come on," Rusty hauled Danny out.

"Can manage," Danny told him.

"Sure you can," Rusty agreed and supported his weight down the street, through the door of Maria's bar, past a handful of incurious late night drinkers, up the stairs and into the room at the top.

"What the fuck-"

Rick was off the couch and pulling Danny from Rusty's arms and helping him into the chair, pushing a glass of whisky into his hand. Rusty shut the door and acknowledged Ed's concern with a dismissive gesture. _He_ wasn't hurt.

"What the fuck…" Rick repeated more softly and he eased Danny back and Rusty knew he was looking at pain that was masked but still evident.

"We ran into a little-"

"I wasn't asking you, you bastard!" Rick snarled and hurled himself back across the room, pinning Rusty unresisting up against the wall.

"Rick!" Danny called faintly.

"Hey!" Eduardo stood up and darted across and Rick turned and shoved him hard so that he fell back on the floor.

"Stay out of it, kid, if you know what's good for you!"

Eduardo was scrambling to his feet and ready to continue the argument.

"Stay out of it," Rusty repeated, his eyes telling Ed that he could handle it and then Rick's fist slammed into his jaw

"You shut the fuck up! You let him get hurt and you drag him back here and you're standing there with not a scratch-" Rick's fist was drawn back for a second blow, his other hand bunching up the overalls, holding Rusty still and still, Rusty didn't react.

"Rick! Stop it!" Danny's voice was firm. "It wasn't Rusty's fault!"

Rick snorted and stared hard at Rusty but the fist stayed at the top of the arc.

"You want me to believe you go out with this…" Rick's glare raked over him and Rusty held his gaze. "With this faggoty piece of shit and…"

He let go of Rusty and span round. "I should have gone, Danny. I would have had your back-"

Danny was shaking his head and forcing the words out through the aftermath of pain. "It wasn't like that, Rick. This was nothing to do with the break in. This was just something on the streets afterwards-" he broke off and gave a stifled cry, gripping the arm of the chair.

"Go find Maria and get some pain-killers," Rusty told Ed as Rick moved back to Danny's side.

"Come on," Rick said gently, helping Danny to his feet. "Let's take a look at the damage."

"I'm OK," Danny told him, "we need to talk about-"

Rick shushed him. "Let's get you sorted. Talking can wait."

Danny's eyes flickered across to him and there was apology and the exhaustion that came on the downside of the adrenaline and then Rick had insinuated himself into the path of the look. Rusty watched him help Danny into his room and the door closed and he let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and rubbed his jaw. Bruise, undoubtedly. He crossed to the table and picked up Eduardo's glass and drank deeply. Eduardo reappeared with boxes of tablets and went straight to Rusty's side.

"Are you really alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Ed. Danny was the one who took the beating."

"But Rick-"

"Rick was just defending his partner."

Rusty smiled reassurance and Eduardo hesitated and nodded. The door to Danny's room opened and Rick walked over to them.

"Good," he said, seeing the pain-killers and taking them from Eduardo.

"How is he?" Rusty asked in a low voice and Rick turned angry eyes on him.

"He's at pains to tell me you're not to blame. But just so's you know, I'm still holding you responsible."

He marched back into the room and the door shut firmly and Rusty sighed and sank down on the couch with the whisky clutched in his hand. Wordlessly, Eduardo topped up the drink and went to find another glass.

* * *

He'd told Rick what had happened, _how_ it had happened… That there really had been nothing Rusty could have done to prevent it, that he'd told him to go and-

"And he went," Rick interrupted, easing the turtleneck off him and grimacing at the marks underneath. "Oh, you're going to be singing a rainbow in the morning."

He tried to tell him that it was nothing, that he was fine but Rick was pushing pain-killers at him. Danny allowed the inspection and the fuss and the cursing and the concern. Wasn't like it was the first time.

*

_Fists and a length of wood and they weren't going for final, this was about punishment. About being remembered and about warning not to try again and that was good and he needed to keep that in mind, through the blood and the crunch of bone. Searing agony was his for a while, his and his alone. He counted it a personal triumph that he was still vaguely conscious when they threw him out of the van and he lay in the filth and the stale water and the God knew what at the side of the dumpster._

_There had been crawling. A lot of crawling. The street and the phone booth seemed an age away and there was no one around to see him dragging himself hand over hand and maybe this was how you made your way out of quicksand, maybe this was how you survived though you'd probably need to spread your body weight and then he wondered about Rodents Of Unusual Size and then he just wondered about the shadows and fuck but it hurt. It hurt everywhere and he wanted to stop, he wanted to rest but something was suggesting that was not such a good idea and he looked at the shadows again and he made himself go on._

_His arms gave way as he hit the street and then he was lying on his stomach and trying to make the phone booth come to him by sheer force of will. It didn't want to play. His fingernails dug into the sidewalk and he hauled himself over to the booth and sent up a silent prayer that the phone wasn't out of order. He found a quarter and then looked up as a haze of pain washed over him. There were footsteps. Two people. He tensed in case _they_ were coming back but he realised he was hearing a set of unsteady high heels in there. A couple. Out drinking. Cutting through the back streets. On their way home to enjoy the night further. He suddenly thought of Teresa and bit his lip and then they were there._

_He sensed them shuffling round the edge of where he lay. Nervous laughter. And he didn't want to ask, really he didn't but Teresa flashed across his mind once more and besides he was wondering whether he had the physical strength to drag himself up to grab the phone._

_"Help, please." And the words were mouthed. "Help. Please help." A little stronger and the laughter stopped. They'd heard. And then they _stepped over_ him... He saw them leave and he screwed up his eyes and then he gritted his teeth and climbed the Everest in front of him and called Rick._

* * *

Danny's chest was a fucking mess. He was never going to forgive the fucking faggot who had run away and left Danny to face the music. Fuck him. Fucking slick bastard with his charm and his backchat and his sly little digs and he'd even got Danny making excuses for him. Fuck him.

Danny's hand gripped his for a moment and he looked down at the dark hair and the closed eyes and the pain that was being managed and he gritted his teeth. He gave Danny's hand a brief squeeze and gently let go of it and settled back in the chair alongside the bed.

Fucking faggot.

And the thing was, if it had been the other way round, if it had been _Rusty _who had been caught the wrong side of the fence, he knew Danny would have run to save him. Stupid idiot was made that way. Not that he was complaining.

*

_Somehow, somewhere, something had gone wrong. And he might never know the how and the where and the thing and he wasn't even too sure about the place but he did know that there was a very unhappy guy stood in front of him and he'd brought company._

_"Thought you might steal from me?" The English was perfectly accented. "A foolish idea. And foolish execution. I am thinking Mr Tishkoff sent you, no?"_

_Reuben Tishkoff. Danny's friend. Absolutely the reason he was here in this country he'd never been to before. He stayed silent. He was many things but a snitch he wasn't._

_"Not feeling talkative?" The man was amused and understanding and not in the least bit surprised. "I can be persuasive."_

_He bared his teeth and he readied himself and as the...the whatever it was and he didn't much care for identification at that point...as the whatever it was slammed down between his shoulder blades and sent him sprawling forwards, he'd wondered briefly if Danny and the briefcase had got away OK. And then there were kicks and stamps and boots, lots of boots that were relentless and not to be argued with and he lay silently and took the beating and when they hauled him upright, spitting blood, he was still defiant. Even the third and fifth and eighth time they picked him off the floor. He didn't feel in a sharing mood._

_He'd passed out. He must have done. Next thing was a hotel room and Danny, impossibly Danny, and his wounds were dressed and Danny had burned skin on the side of his face. Mild burn and if it had been in his nature to speculate, he'd have wondered a little. His gaze fell on the briefcase on the table and he smiled up at Danny._

_"Sleep," Danny said. "Rest." And he did both._

_

* * *

_

Rusty had drained the whisky and hadn't said much more apart from the fact that he needed to grab a shower and that they'd be better talking everything through in the morning when everyone had calmed down and that Ed should really get some sleep and no, Rick wasn't going to come back and start punching and yes, Rick was probably still going to be angry but the immediate fury had died and couldn't Ed see that? _(And no, he couldn't)_. Besides which, Rick was going to be sitting up all night with Danny and there really was nothing either of them could do till morning and Ed should really get some sleep.

He'd watched Rusty head for the shower and he'd stared down at his glass and thought about a time of pain and fear.

*

_He'd done his reconnaissance. He was confident he had prepared and that he didn't need to worry that there was something he was missing. Though that thought made his worry that there was. _

_Marc Buchet was flamboyant and rich and deadly. He shouldn't stop at the second adjective and forget the deadly. There had been stories about Marc's vineyard and what else might be planted there. Wasn't like it had a great reputation for wine. But still, Marc was rich and there were rumours about the underground room with the wealth inside and he'd invested some two weeks now studying the man and his habits._

_Marc was mostly about routine and occasionally about the wild and the extravagant gesture. He'd rolled back from somewhere - Capri, he thought - with a new companion and a Ferrari. Eduardo had approved of both. He'd watched the lithe blond with the easy grace and the flirtatious smile and he'd felt the power of the charm even through the binoculars. The man was...he'd thought about him that night and his breath had come short and fast and he'd felt the heat in his cheeks. He'd forced himself to think about the Ferrari instead but then there was the blond and the Ferrari and the combination was such that he could either continue down that line of thought or go and have a cold shower. He chose the shower. Eventually._

_Back to the con and he'd lain in the shadows of the house and listened and watched. Right now, Marc would be out at mass and that would give him a very narrow window of opportunity to find the room and the treasure. Marc's men were with him for the most part. And the stuff of fantasies had retired to the bedroom with a headache. _

_A little trial and error and a little luck and stone steps and cool dark and he found the right corridor and then he was frowning at the door because it was slightly ajar. Silently, he'd pulled the door open and there was the blond at the top of a ladder inspecting a shelf. He'd stared open-mouthed and the blond hadn't looked the least bit surprised but a whole lot amused._

_"What are you after?"_

_He'd shrugged and swallowed. He hadn't really got as far as the what._

_"Well," the blond swung himself down from the ladder and part of Eduardo registered how sexy the movement was and the rest of him was still blinking and saying nothing. "I know what I'm after." He held up a book. "And I am out of here. So you can have the rest of it if you hurry. Marc is back shortly but the alarms are disabled, the men upstairs have had a little sleeping draught added to their coffees and you're very welcome."_

_"Th-thank you," he'd stuttered and he'd stumbled into the room with the jewels and the art and then he stepped on the well-concealed man-trap and he screamed. Metal teeth bit into his leg, splintering bone, tearing flesh and agony and fire and so much pain and he collapsed to the ground, his fingers uselessly scrabbling at the cold steel._

_"It's OK, kid, I got you." The blond was there and his arms were round him and holding him and he clutched at him in panic and pain and the blond's eyes, the tremendous blue eyes were reassuring and encouraging and they helped and he stepped back a little from the edge of chaos and he gained a little more control. He could feel the colour draining from him but he wasn't going to lose it, not in front of those blue eyes and he forced himself to calm down._

_The blond let go of him and looked at the man-made shark that had hold of his leg. _

_"Right. I can spring it back open and then you need to pull your leg out. Are you-"_

_A beeping went off loudly in the room and the blond dug into his pocket and fished out a small black box._

_"Fuck," he said with feeling and the blue eyes were back on him. "Marc's back, kid. He'll be heading down here and I can't...you won't..."_

_He got it. There wasn't enough time for them both to get away. And the blond looked down at the man-trap and swore again softly and he didn't need the blue eyes full of troubled apology to work it out. The blond couldn't set him free. If he did, Marc would know there were two of them. He licked his lips and nodded and let go of the blond both physically and mentally. He gave him permission to leave. The blond wasted a few more seconds of escape time and brushed his dark hair out of his eyes and Eduardo trembled and told himself it was the pain. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, the blond was gone._

_The sequence of events after that had been blurry. Marc and his men and delight and violence and hands in his hair wrenching his head up and making him look at the promise of death. And after a while, dizzy and nauseous, he wondered if death wouldn't be a good option. Then the world had exploded and he saw the surprise on Marc's face which led him to suppose that this wasn't actually something expected. Blackness had descended._

_A hotel room. Stripped and cleaned and tended. Bandages and dressings and drugs in his system. And an easy smile and blue eyes and sunshine shining down on him._

_"You gonna be OK, kid. Little healing, nothing permanent. Might have a scar or two to show for it."_

_"You came back..." he croaked and the blue eyes smiled again._

_"Couldn't have you taking all the credit for my work, now, could I? You got a name by the way? Can't keep calling you 'kid'."_

_"Eduardo di Costa." And his voice sounded thick and hoarse and he wondered how long he'd been lying unconscious._

_"Eduardo-" The blond looked impressed. "That your real name?"_

_Yes, it was. He looked at the blond expectantly and the blond sighed._

_"Rusty Ryan."_

_Eduardo's eyes asked the question._

_"Yes, it's my real name." Amused._

_Eduardo had felt unconsciousness rising up to claim him but he moved his arm and that took so much effort and he laid his fingers lightly on the golden hand that rested on top of the bed._

_"Stay" was what he was saying but with no words. "Please, stay". _

_"Not going anywhere, Ed" was the last thing he heard and he thought he ought to point out at some point how much he hated that contraction._

* * *

The shower rained down warm water and he stood under the jets and he tried to push away the sight of Danny trapped on the wrong side of safety and the sharp and immediate feeling of betrayal that had risen up in him. Stupid feeling. Ridiculous feeling. He wasn't the one doing the trapping, he wasn't the one doing the hitting. Danny wasn't his responsibility, damn it. Ed was enough. Ed was...oh, he had to cut the ties soon. Ed was... He didn't need a partner. He didn't need ties. He certainly didn't need anyone new on the scene making him feel so... Making him feel. Making him _feel..._

*

_The three of them had sat in the lounge in front of the patio doors and Saul had laughed with delight as he'd dealt the four hands face up._

_"Extraordinary, Rusty. Extraordinary." Saul turned to Mitch. "Don't you think?"_

_Mitch had hesitated and then nodded and his eyes had been hooded and Rusty had thought then that something was wrong. But then Mitch never looked happy nowadays. He looked sour and suspicious and begrudging and Rusty had tried everything to get to the bottom of it because if he loved Saul like a father, he loved Mitch like a brother. _

_When Saul had brought him home, wary and wondering, six weeks on the streets and there had been violence and incidents and propositions and he'd mostly escaped all of those... When Saul had brought him home, Mitch had been the one who showed him the ropes. Took him round the neighbourhood. Told him what was what. The photo of Annie, for instance. Rusty had looked at the pretty face and the laughing eyes and she had been snapped in the middle of cooking and there was flour on her cheek but it was natural and there was love and joy..._

_"Died a while back," Mitch said. "Way before Saul moved here."_

_And Rusty had known not to ask questions and he understood when Saul sat with his whisky and his paper sometimes and grew distant and was away in another time with another person._

_But that was months ago. Years ago. And now Rusty was twenty and Mitch was twenty two and Saul was as old as Methusaleh and the gap between him and Mitch had been growing and growing..._

_He was stood in the empty hotel room and he was confused and bemused and Mitch had told him there was a change of plan and he would meet him here but Mitch wasn't there. Mitch wasn't there and Rusty was afraid for Mitch. Afraid that Willoughby had caught him and this was the second time they'd robbed him and Willoughby might have reason to be angry. Maybe he should go and try to find Mitch but then...if Mitch was on his way and he got here and _Rusty_ wasn't here... Better to wait a while longer. Just a little while longer. Five more minutes at least. The bag of jewels was heavy in his pocket and he could wait. He ought to wait. But Mitch should have been here and if he wasn't, that might mean..._

_Fuck waiting. He had to go and find Mitch. He opened the door and Willoughby stood there and his eyes widened in shock and then two bullets thundered into him and threw him backwards and down to the floor and he lay there in numb and silent agony and fear because if Willoughby was here, then Mitch..._

_Mitch walked into the room and Rusty was checking him over and asking the questions and Mitch was walking and smiling and..._smiling?

_"You dumb fuck," Mitch said and things clicked into place in an instant. _

_Jealousy growing and resentment breeding and brooding constant. Mitch had been Saul's boy. The first boy from the streets. And he was good but he wasn't as good as Rusty. Rusty could see himself in Saul's eyes and he was talented and a prodigy and Mitch could see that too. Rusty couldn't help it and Saul couldn't help it and Mitch couldn't help the way that made him feel._

_A set-up. A set-up and Rusty would be killed, tragically killed and Saul would weep and Mitch would console and they would be back to where they were before Rusty. He tried to speak, he tried to say something but words wouldn't come._

_Then the world ended. Saul running through the door and letting out a cry and pushing Mitch out of the way. Kneeling down by Rusty's side and crouching over him and shielding him from their gaze_

_"He's dead," Saul said and he thought he might actually be. Saul's hand reached out and brushed down his lids so that he could only half see out. And Saul's other hand pressed up to his cheek and he felt love unbounded in the touch. _

_Then Saul was up and fighting and Willoughby's men were dragging him away and out of the room and this was forever and final and not even Mitch wanted that and he was arguing and then Willoughby laughed and dropped Mitch where he stood with a bullet to the brain. _

_The last thing Rusty saw before he blacked out was Saul's face, white with horror and pain. He never saw Saul again._


	11. Exchange

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: the boys aren't mine. Neither are the timelimes.

Chapter Eleven: Exchange

* * *

Danny opened his eyes and immediately had to stifle the wince. His muscles felt stiff and taut and he knew without looking that Rick's prediction about the bruising had come true.

There was a snore from the chair at the side of the bed and awkwardly, he turned his head and saw Rick, legs stretched out in front of him, arms hanging over the sides and his head thrown back. Danny smiled. Rick was always there. Dependable. Reliable. Gingerly, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. It had been a while since he'd been on the wrong end of fists and feet. A little altercation eighteen months ago with Mickey Mason and his boys. Danny pulled a face at the memory.

Rick came to with a start and blinked at him.

"How are you feeling?"

Danny went to shrug and regretted it. "Colourful."

* * *

They emerged dressed and bleary-eyed from Danny's room to find Eduardo up and in the kitchen.

"I'm making coffees," he called through brightly. "Rusty's gone for breakfast."

"Typical," Rick muttered. "Flashman only thinks about him-"

Rusty chose that moment to walk through the door with a plate laden with bacon sandwiches. He kicked the door shut behind him and deposited the plate on the table in front of the couch. Eduardo came through clutching a tray of coffees. Danny smiled and sat down carefully in the easy chair. Rick glowered at Rusty and the food.

"Feeling a little guilty?"

Rusty picked up a sandwich. "A little hungry," he corrected.

Eduardo handed Danny a coffee and Rick thrust a sandwich into Danny's hand, still scowling at Rusty. Then they both sat down on the couch and Rusty took up residence, cross-legged, on the floor opposite.

"So," Danny began. "Last night-"

"Last night," Rick nodded with meaning and Danny sighed inwardly. Luckily, Rusty looked like it was all washing over him.

"Last night," he tried again, "Rusty and I broke in to the auction house and we found a floor full of offices and dead ends. Nothing suspicious, nothing out of the ordinary. Paperwork and PCs and yet..." he hesitated and his eyes met Rusty's and Rusty gave an imperceptible nod of encouragement. "And yet, neither of us felt like the auction yesterday was on the level. Something was wrong. Some of those bidding were genuine and some were ringers. People who knew without a shadow of a doubt that they were going to bid and win."

For the first time since they'd walked out of the room, Rick was concentrating on him instead of Rusty.

"How did you know?" he frowned and Danny took a deep breath.

"We had a feeling."

"A feeling," Rick repeated. "A _feeling?"_

And a hundred other different conversations played out in Danny's head. Rick looking quizzically at him, Rick raising his eyebrows, Rick shaking his head. Rick didn't even have to say a word nowadays to make Danny doubt himself.

"A feeling," Rusty nodded matter-of-factly. "Or rather, a reading of the atmosphere in the room. I've-" he glanced over at Danny and corrected himself, "we've been in this game long enough to know when something is off kilter. And it was with the auction."

"OK," Eduardo had been listening intently. "And what does it mean?"

Danny saw Rusty's eyes on his.

"I'm not sure," Danny admitted. "But there's something deeper going on there. We overheard a conversation between Alex and a man named Constantine-"

"-his brother-"

"-his brother. And they were discussing shipments. Goods in and out. All written down in a little black book Alex was carrying. And he had details in there about the sale of the Canaletto. Well, _a _Canaletto...anyway, point is, whatever is going on there, it's murky waters."

Rick's face was still sceptical. "What did you actually find out that was concrete?"

The doubt was there in full force. Danny's mouth opened and closed.

"The floors are accessed by the main elevators," Rusty licked a bit of grease off his thumb. "I'll have to check the plans again, but I'd say there's a whole number of floors that the elevator doesn't stop at on the way up to where we were."

"Why?" Eduardo was frowning.

"I don't know," Rusty admitted. "I have no idea why they don't put the admin floor close to what happens on the main auction floor. But maybe...maybe it's important that the admin floor which we found is close to whatever's on the floors above it. It's up above that level of tight security on the plans and there must be floors up above that also matter. Easier to manage security if they're bunched together."

"The elevator is card controlled," Danny said. " And that would keep the workers away from the more interesting parts of the operation. Only open to a select few."

Rick snorted. "I said concrete. It's all speculation. You haven't got any facts."

"No," Rusty agreed cheerfully. "But we've got a solid feeling."

There was a definite bristling in the air and Danny hurriedly asked Eduardo, "How'd you get on with Alisha?"

"Found her apartment. Got her latest bank statement." Eduardo picked it up off the table with the hand that was not full of bacon sandwich and waved it triumphantly; then he grimaced at the smell and put it down again hurriedly. "It makes interesting reading. No sign of the amounts that Doug gave her being deposited."

"Probably handed the cash straight over to Anton," Rick suggested. "They went out for a meal last night and she's sweet on him alright."

"But there's a deposit for a substantial sum this last month," Eduardo was scanning the paper. "After she split up with Doug. It could be the Canaletto sale."

"She didn't share _that_ with Anton," Danny mused.

"Speaking of Anton, he's got an interesting little hobby," Rick said.

"Poker?" Eduardo wondered. "That's what Alisha said to Doug, right? Gambling? Was she exaggerating the truth?"

"No." Rick let them hang for a moment, enjoying his moment in the spotlight. "Dog-fighting. Not just betting. He has a stable of fighting dogs. And he has a champion bitch that he's breeding from. The pups are selling for a _fortune._"

Danny leant his head back against the chair and thought.

"We need more information," he said eventually.

"I was going to look around Alisha's place," Eduardo volunteered.

"Yes," Danny agreed. "And Rick, you need to check out Anton further."

"And you had better rest up," Rick advised. "You're not on stage again till tomorrow anyway." He glanced over at Rusty. "That leaves you, hotshot. You got plans for today? They involve letting my partner get hurt?"

"Rick!" Danny hissed.

Rusty pursed his lips, brushed sandwich crumbs off his fingers and sat back on his heels. "Think I'll keep Danny company for a while."

"Guilt. I knew it."

* * *

Rusty saw Ed, troubled as he had been the previous night. He saw Danny, frowning at his partner. He saw Rick, hanging on to the feeling of righteous anger. Rick finished his sandwich in silence, shooting filthy looks in his direction even as Danny started to say something placating. Enough of the placating shit. He sat up and leaned across the table and looked Rick in the eye.

"You were busy riding my ass last night and I understand, really I do, but it stops. Right now."

"Riding your ass?" Rick sneered, leaning forward to meet his gaze. "You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you?"

Rusty's eyes narrowed slightly and he considered for a moment then grinned. "Been thinking about that, have you, Rick?"

Rick bared his teeth at him. "Have you?"

Danny's fist slammed down on to the table. "Enough!" He glared at Rick and his voice rang out, commanding and impossible to defy. "Drop it. I've told you that it wasn't Rusty's fault. You _know_ it wasn't Rusty's fault. Now shut. The fuck. Up."

They all looked at him; his eyes flashing, dark hair falling over his brow, sitting forward in the chair, powerful and authoritative.

"Do we have a problem, gentlemen?" And the voice was now ice and his eyes were dark and fierce.

"No problem here," Rusty said softly.

"Rick?"

Silence.

"Rick?"

A heavy sigh. "No."

"Good. End of. We've got work to do. Eduardo, Rick, head on out," Danny instructed. "We'll see you again tonight."

Eduardo looked like he wanted to protest but Rusty reassured and insisted without saying a word and Ed disappeared out the door. Rick looked even more as if he wanted to protest but Danny was cool and insistent and he gave Danny one last sullen look and followed Eduardo.

When the door shut, Rusty looked over at Danny.

"Quite a speech."

The adrenaline died away in Danny and he dropped back in the chair. "Needed saying."

Rusty looked at him thoughtfully. "I meant what I said. I do understand. Not like I'd be in a hurry to listen if it were Ed who came back battered and bruised."

"Still," Danny said tiredly and the effort of establishing equilibrium seemed to have sapped his energy. "He'd made his point."

* * *

He felt drained by his outburst but it had been necessary. Rick had blamed Rusty and that was…well, like Rusty said it was understandable. He'd have been asking Rusty for answers if Rick had come back in a worse state than when he'd left. But Rick was hanging on to the rage, using it as an excuse to score points and that was not…it wasn't…mmm…it…

Two pain-killers were pushed into his hand and he shot a quick, tight smile of thanks up at Rusty, standing by the chair and drank the pills down with his coffee.

"You OK?"

"Yeah."

"You want to rest up-"

"No." Definite. "Let's talk it through."

Blue eyes were travelling over his face looking for truth. Rusty seemed to make his mind up. He sat down on the couch and Danny only wondered momentarily about the chocolate bar that had appeared in Rusty's hand. Somehow it seemed a natural state of affairs,

"OK," Rusty began. "Auction house that isn't on the up and up."

"It takes in genuine pieces of value like Doug's Canaletto...bad example. Like the piece he went to them with in the first place-"

"-and it attracts genuine bidders like…well, like you and me...huh...also a bad example..."

"But at the same time, there are people who aren't genuine-"

"-who are plants-"

"-who bid on pieces…what are they getting out of it?" Danny frowned. "What do they get out of…" he tailed off.

"Some of those bids were jump bids," Rusty pointed out.

"Yeah," he agreed absentmindedly.

They had been. Raising the stakes. Throwing money at second rate pieces that they didn't need to throw money at. And what was the result? What was… And the pieces…they'd move on, they'd be bought and delivered and be moved… And… Paper. Rock. Scissors. Paper. Rock. Scissors. Paper...rock...scissors...?

He must have lost himself for a moment because Rusty was laying a hand gently on his arm to bring him back to the conversation. And Rusty was saying something light and funny and it didn't matter. What mattered was the vision burning through Danny. He started thinking out loud and talking quickly as if the images flashing through his brain were going to evaporate if he didn't turn them into words.

"Suppose you had an illegal operation that generated a lot of cash income. Drugs, prostitution, gambling… And you wanted to make that cash honest-"

"Money laundering." Rusty got it. But Danny hadn't finished.

"And at the same time, suppose you had a smuggling operation-"

"-incoming goods-"

"-right. And you hit upon the idea of disguising your method of moving those goods on-"

"-you send them out concealed with other goods-"

"-with goods that have legitimate paperwork-"

"-that no one is going to challenge." Rusty stared at him. "They weren't buying those pieces."

"No. They were getting the money into the system. And the goods are being sent on to wherever their people need paper or rock or scissors."

Rusty nodded to himself. "So what are they smuggling?"

Danny shrugged and almost didn't notice the pain. "The usual? Guns and jewels and drugs. Not likely to be people. Unless they specialise in-"

"-greasemen."

They both grinned and Rusty stared at him again and there were little tiny almost-frowns as if he were trying to knock holes in Danny's theory.

"Feels right," Rusty said eventually.

Danny nodded. It did.


	12. Bruised

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: do not own Mr Ocean, do not own Mr Ryan.

Chapter Twelve: Bruised

* * *

Eduardo headed towards Alisha's apartment, trying his best not to think about the snarl on Rick's face. This was more than Rick defending his partner whatever Rusty said. This seemed personal. And as far as conflict went, from what he'd learned over the past two years, Rusty was far too stubborn to be diplomatic.

This morning, they had walked out of their bedrooms at pretty much the same time and Eduardo had bitten back on commenting on Rusty's fleeting, unguarded look of exhaustion. This was more than this job. This was more than Rusty's usual trick of only sleeping when he absolutely had no other choice. This was an older pain that Rusty didn't speak about and Eduardo would never know about at all if it hadn't been from an occasional, casual mention of a name.

Saul. Eduardo had figured out that the man had taught Rusty everything (_and part of him wondered about the everything_) that Rusty had needed to know. Well, certainly Saul had given Rusty outlines and principles: Eduardo imagined that Rusty had filled in the rest and given it his own twist.

There was a story behind Saul and the closest Eduardo had come to hearing it was after they had found Mario, the young boy from the streets who had the information they needed about the stateroom on Gloria Hartnett's yacht. Mario had been wary and Rusty had spoken softly and privately and Mario had nodded and agreed to meet them later. Only later never came. Mario had been dead a couple of hours when they found him, knifed and left in a heap. Rusty had been silent and withdrawn and it hadn't mattered that Eduardo was right there alongside him, because Rusty was a million miles away.

"Paths that you might have taken," Rusty had murmured over a glass of whisky that was the first to be poured from the bottle that was the third to have been opened. Rusty was very drunk. Eduardo doubted anyone would have known.

"Paths and choices and the grace of God," Rusty went on and Eduardo, who had started off trying to keep pace with the drinking and who had given up a bottle and a half ago, nodded.

"You never know what luck and fate are gonna throw at you," Rusty's voice was so soft that Eduardo had to strain to catch the words. "And when you take a leap of faith and it…it's more than you could have hoped for, more than you could have ever dreamed, when it's love and strength and belief, still…" Rusty swallowed. "Still, it can be torn down and trampled in a heartbeat. And all that's left behind is the ache…"

Somehow Eduardo had known they were back at Saul. Saul who was undoubtedly dead. Impossible to be jealous of Saul except that Eduardo heard the grief and the yearning and he wondered whether he'd ever inspire that in Rusty. He'd put Rusty to bed and in the morning, he'd felt awful but Rusty was bright-eyed and calm and controlled and nothing was said about what had been said.

But _this _morning, Eduardo had caught a glimpse of haunted memory on Rusty's face before Rusty could cover it up. And he'd wanted to do what Rusty would never let him do. To put his arms round Rusty and pull his head into his chest and to hold him and tell him it would be alright and that he, Eduardo, Ed if Rusty must, was there for him, forever.

Instead, he'd settled for reaching out and lightly brushing his thumb over Rusty's jaw where the bruise was forming. Rusty had given him an easy smile and pulled away, dismissing concern. Nothing to be worried about. As if Eduardo would ever be convinced.

* * *

Standing on the crowded subway train that would take him to Anton's neighbourhood, Rick stared unblinking at his own reflection in the window. Emotion withered down from the surface and wound down and round and in on itself until the anger gave way to other things: a burning desire to prove to himself that he was smarter and better than the golden hotrod; a brooding need to show Danny that he was siding with the wrong man. He locked both of the feelings deep down inside him. He could wait. And when he acted, it would sting more than that bruise that was shadowing Rusty's jaw.

The train stopped and he glanced up and cursed because he'd ridden past his stop. Somewhere, he could hear mocking laughter and he gritted his teeth and shouldered his way through the mass of commutertime bodies.

* * *

At some point, Rusty had mentioned fixing a snack and had disappeared to do so. It had seemed a good idea to move over to the couch and stretch out and just rest his eyes for a moment or two. And then it had been only natural for his thoughts to dwell on Rick and Rusty. He'd seen the bruise on Rusty's jaw and he'd felt a little guilty and a little responsible that he had somehow inspired it. And Rick would never apologise for his actions and Danny knew better than to attempt to apologise on his behalf so it was lucky Rusty didn't look like he wanted or expected an apology from either of them.

His thoughts had drifted on to the auction house and his...hunch, intuition, feeling that something was wrong and the scepticism and reassurance from expected and unexpected quarters. And then his thoughts had just drifted. When he woke up, the TV was showing _"Rear Window" _and Rusty was sitting with his back to the couch, his legs stretched out under the table, a big bowl of popcorn on top.

Popcorn. Sure.

"Miss Lonelyhearts..." Danny muttered recognising the scene and the bowl of popcorn was nudged towards him.

"We should be thinking about the job," Danny suggested and Rusty shrugged his shoulders, still watching Jimmy Stewart.

Danny stared at the TV. "I guess a little downtime is OK." He took a handful of the unsurprising popcorn and watched.

* * *

Alisha's apartment was easy enough to break into in such a way that she would never know he had been there. Eduardo stood in the middle of the living area and took in the luxurious furnishings and the tasteful little pieces that decorated the place. Alisha had put her keen dealer's eye to work to pick out some exceptionally valuable and aesthetically pleasing accessories. The same was true of her wardrobe. Designer clothes and shoes and handbags. The right image. He thought about Anton and the dog-fighting: maybe all girls had a soft spot for a boy from the wrong side of the tracks.

The little bureau stood in the corner of her bedroom. It was full of bills and records and statements and Eduardo got busy reading.

* * *

He must have slept again. When he woke, Rusty was sitting in the chair, watching him and Danny thought that ought to feel freaky as hell.

"What?" he snapped, sitting up quickly and wincing.

Rusty smiled slightly. "I want to check something out. Didn't want you to wake up and be on your own."

"Why didn't you just wake me up and tell me you were going?" It was surely the most logical thing to do.

There was a half-shrug and a half-grin and something about letting him get the rest he needed and Danny's jaw set.

"I am not an invalid and I do not need baby-sitting and you could have woken me up."

"Well, you're awake now," Rusty pointed out. "So I'll leave you to it and see you later."

"Where are you going?" Now he had made his point, the rest of Danny's brain woke up.

"Out. Thought of something. Just want to see if I'm right."

Well, that was hardly enlightening but Rusty was standing up now and heading for the door.

"Oh, Maria brought us up some fresh groceries-"

"-we need to do something for her," Danny broke in. They did. Not like the four of them could live and eat at her expense.

Rusty nodded. "We are," he said mysteriously and before Danny could ask about _that_ as well, he added, "I said I thought maybe you'd like her to stop by and bring you some lunch."

Non-plussed, Danny stared at him. "I can fix myself some lunch."

Rusty opened the door and Maria was there.

"Good timing," she muttered, stepping into the room with a plate full of something that smelt hot and wonderful and Danny's mouth started watering. He hadn't eaten much last night and the bacon sandwiches had been a while ago.

The half-grin was back on Rusty's face and Danny scowled at him as he disappeared.

* * *

The neighbourhood where Anton lived was decidedly rough. Rick threw his shoulders back and walked round with a surly expression that suggested anyone unwise enough to challenge him would be feeling his fists.

He spent time drinking in bars, listening and leading conversations and ingratiating himself with the locals. Caution. Always caution. Slow and steady won the race and the bigger picture he was carefully building was a colourful one.

* * *

It had been an unexceptional day so far at Larner's as far as Alex was concerned. Alisha, one of their longest serving dealers, had been in a foul mood. She had been watching the door anxiously as if waiting for someone to walk in and the someone obviously hadn't. Alex could sympathise. He had been keeping a weather eye on the door too.

However, Alisha was wearing her disappointment all over her face. It wasn't attractive in the slightest. And since her attractiveness was the reason Constantine had insisted on placing her in prime location, that wasn't really on. Constantine would be furious if he saw the petulance. Alex walked over.

"Alisha," he began, "why don't you grab an early lunch? Floor's steady and-"

"I'm not hungry," came the sharp response.

Alex sighed. He wasn't Constantine whom everyone jumped for. And even though Alisha was one of the few genuine Larner's employees who knew a little about what happened upstairs, who _knew _that Alex was more than the man who managed the inventory, Alisha was not in a hurry to give him any respect she didn't have to. Fine. He didn't need respect.

"Alisha, your face could sour milk. Go to lunch and sort yourself out and come back with a smile."

She blinked hard at him and then scowled and grabbed her purse and disappeared.

"Did I hear the word 'lunch'?"

Alex span round, a grin lighting his face. "James!"

"Wondered if you had time for-"

"Yes!" Oh, he did. He really did. He saw the amusement on James's face as he didn't let him finish the sentence and he didn't care one bit.

* * *

The stew was delicious. Rustic and full of vegetables and Danny had eaten every last mouthful. Maria had stayed and he'd thought about telling her she didn't need to keep him company whatever Rusty might have said but actually, she was an easy companion, pottering around the kitchen and the living area, tidying up and smiling every now and then as he enjoyed the food that she had prepared.

When he put the plate down on the table with an inarticulate noise of satisfaction, she nodded approval.

"That's what I like to see. Good appetite."

"Please will you sit down." It was at least the third time that he'd asked her.

"I guess." She sat down on the chair and curled her legs up under her.

"How long have you been running this place?"

"Poppa died ten years ago. I been in charge ever since."

Danny studied her for a moment. Capable and strong in mind and body. She was a handsome woman with a no-nonsense manner and he did not doubt she ran the bar successfully. Still…

"Tough life sometimes."

"For a woman? Sometimes," she agreed. "My regulars don't give me no trouble. And anyone who does give me trouble has my regulars to answer to. Only problem I've had was a-" she broke into vitriolic Italian that Danny got the gist of, if not the exact translation. "He screwed me over big time. Lost the bar to the cheating son of a bitch in a poker game. Rusty helped me," she finished in a softer voice.

"You like Rusty a lot, don't you?" Danny said quietly.

"What's not to like?" she shrugged. "I just wish he'd…" she sighed. "This Eduardo. He's his partner, yes?"

"For about two years, I think."

"And they get on alright?"

Danny thought about Rusty taking on Rick on Eduardo's unknowing behalf. He thought about Eduardo slipping out of Rusty's bedroom. He thought about Eduardo rushing to Rusty's defence when Rick had grabbed him.

"I'd say so."

Maria nodded to herself and frowned a little. "I never thought he was…" She sighed again. "I just want him happy."

She looked at him suddenly. "Do you play cards? You must play cards."

He blinked at the change of subject. "I play cards," he nodded.

"Good," she said with satisfaction, producing a deck. "I hope you play well."

* * *

James had laughed off Alex's exclamation of concern over the bruise on his jaw. A very funny story, he assured him, about a short-sighted old woman in a fox fur with a parrot-headed umbrella. And the story had been very funny indeed and James had worn a rueful grin at the end of it.

Alex was voluble over lunch and James was very happy to listen and learn and to steer the talk gently into areas of interest that Alex had no idea about. When lunch was over and James insisted on putting it on his expenses, Alex had sighed regretfully about the need to return to work and James had sympathised.

"Maybe I could play hookey," Alex suggested, studying the table and his hand wasn't quite touching James's but it was definitely in the vicinity.

James moved his hand away and raised his glass to his lips. "Maybe another time," he said lightly and smiled and Alex forgave him instantly.

* * *

He knew enough about Anton now. Everything but the man's shoe size and he would be willing to take a guess at that. He had enough on the man to report back and he had some thoughts on what they could do with the information. Thoughts that he was fucked if he was going to let Trusty Rusty ride roughshod over.

* * *

Everything was back in place in Alisha's apartment. Every cushion, every ornament, every piece of paper. She would never know anyone had been there. Rusty had drilled into him the importance of disguising evidence of trespass and Eduardo had been a good pupil.

He was walking away from the place, confident that he knew enough about Alisha to enable them to build the con around her. And he felt the familiar, pleasant little buzz of excitement he always did.

* * *

Rusty walked in to an intense game of…he squinted at the table, covered in cards and food.

"Canasta? You do like to challenge expectation."

Maria grinned. "You want to join us?"

He studied the table again and the little piles of food made more sense. "You're betting in popcorn."

It was a statement rather than a fact.

"There was half a bowl left," Danny shrugged and then, as Rusty reached down and scooped up a handful, "Hey, that's my winnings!"

"I'll owe you," Rusty said between mouthfuls as he sat down beside Danny on the couch. He looked over at Maria. "He any good?"

She shrugged. "I started off with more popcorn." She got to her feet. "I'm off to open up. I'll bring you guys up some supper later."

"Thanks, Maria," Rusty said gratefully.

"Thanks, Maria," Danny echoed and she flashed them both a smile and left.

* * *

"So. Where have you been?"

He watched as Rusty munched more popcorn and gathered the cards together.

"Thought I'd eat out. Little food, little conversation…"

Rusty's hands were…fluid movement and smooth, swift, definite little actions…cutting and recutting cards and well-manicured fingers and lightly tanned skin were manipulating the deck, caressing it, owning it…delicate and deliberate and effortless and expert…it was the absolute, single, most compelling demonstration of talent Danny had ever…

The hands stopped and guiltily, Danny realised he hadn't been paying that much attention to what Rusty had been saying and judging by the quizzical amusement on Rusty's face, Rusty knew it. Danny didn't care.

"That was…" Danny nodded at the pack of cards, still held gracefully. He looked up at Rusty searchingly. "Why haven't I heard about you before?"

Rusty laid the cards down and gave an easy shrug. "You been out of the States much?"

"Once or twice," Danny said. He didn't like to travel too far from home.

"Well, I mostly work in Europe. Dip back into the USA on occasion." And there was something in Rusty's face about the why…

Before Danny's mind could work further on the reason, the door opened and Rick walked in, Eduardo at his heels. Rick hardly looked at him. Instead, his eyes were all over Rusty, as if looking for a reason to continue the quarrel Danny had put an end to that morning. Rusty was holding Rick's gaze, cool and even and there wasn't a hint of provocation but there wasn't a hint of weakness either. Danny sighed inside and silently willed Rick to keep quiet.

And then the unexpected happened.

"I've been thinking. I was probably out of order." Rick stuck out his hand and Rusty made no move to take it. Instead, the scrutiny of Rick's face intensified.

"You saying sorry, Rick?"

Rick took a deep breath. "I'm saying I might have overreacted. Danny's important to me. I might have been acting a little irrational. Not saying I won't again," he added, with a spark of protective anger.

Danny saw Rusty considering.

"Let's hope there isn't an again," Rusty suggested and reached over and shook Rick's hand.

* * *

As he shook his hand, Rusty looked at Rick and he wasn't completely convinced the guy meant it. But he meant to make the effort; and Rusty could meet him halfway on that.

"How are you?" Rick asked Danny and Danny smiled.

"I'm fine. Easing up."

"Good."

"You want to grab some beers?" Danny suggested. "Then we can do show and tell."

* * *

Beers were brought and they were sat round the table in the lounge, Eduardo stretching out on the floor and Rusty taking the chair.

"You first, Rick," Danny said.

"Anton. Late twenties. Comes from the wrong side of town. Likes flashy jewellery and the designer stuff that starts off looking like it's already ten years old and needs washing."

"Grunge," Eduardo suggested.

Rick looked at him blankly and went on.

"Has a nominal job as a floor manager at his uncle's club but spends more time eyeing up the ladies than getting his hands dirty. That's how he met Alisha. He likes to drink, he likes to play the field, he likes to party. He's been seeing Alisha for about five months now on and off. Very much on during the time of Doug. Pretty much off now. Use them and lose them."

"What about the dog-fighting?" Rusty asked.

"Likes to mix it with the big boys. Macho thing. Like I said he has a stable of fighting dogs and he breeds. His bitch is due to pop pups any day now and he has already sold them."

"That's a risk," Rusty commented, sipping the beer thoughtfully.

"It is," Rick agreed and he turned to Danny. "A pedigree pup changes hands for thousands. Anton's been given cash up front and in some cases, a little more by way of encouragement to ensure first pick of the litter."

"If he can't provide his end of the bargain-"

"-he's gonna have some big players seriously pissed off with him."

"So you're thinking we could-"

"We kill the dog and Anton gets screwed over."

There was silence and three pairs of eyes stared unblinking at Rick. Rick rolled his.

"Joke. We take the dog and Anton gets screwed over."

"Doug's money-" Eduardo began.

"Doug's not interested in the money," Rusty said. "He's got plenty of money. He wants a little justice meting out to Anton and Alisha."

"And he wants the Canaletto," Danny added. "It's a good plan, Rick."

Rick flushed and took a swig of beer and looked the happiest he had done since the job started.

"It is," Rusty echoed sincerely. "He'll have some serious explaining to do the other side."

"We're dognapping?" Eduardo's eyes were wide.

"We're dogliberating," Rusty corrected. "How'd you get on at Alisha's?"

"She's got good taste in clothes and interior design. She makes regular payments on her apartment and she keeps the bills up to date."

"Model citizen," Danny smiled. "Apart from the obvious."

"Judging by the furnishings," Eduardo went on, "unless she is extremely well paid at Larner's, I don't think Doug's the first. She likes luxury, she likes expensive. It looks like she's been making money on the side for some time."

"The Reverse Susan should put a stop to that," Rick said.

There was a knock at the door and Eduardo scrambled up to answer it to find Maria stood there bearing pizza. Discussion ended for a while as pizza was served.

* * *

"So what you been up to while we were out?" Rick asked digging in to the margherita.

"Think we got to the bottom of the auction house," Danny replied, biting in to cheese and tomato sauce. "Part of it is completely above board. And alongside that, it hides illegal money from fake bidders and uses the goods that they bid on to ship out consignments."

"Drugs, jewels, guns," Rusty added.

"The paperwork is genuine and the goods bought are genuine. They auction nothing that's too famous, they dip under the radar, they keep their books nice and clean and they pay their taxes. The authorities give them a gold star and never look below the surface."

"And who's behind all this?" Eduardo wanted to know.

"Headed up by a Mr Fitzwilliam," Rusty said between mouthfuls. "Figure he's the overall boss of the outfit. Larner's itself is run by Constantine and Alexander Taylor."

"Constantine and Alexander," Danny mused. "Their parents had high hopes."

"Alexander as in Alex," Rick said neutrally.

"Alex," Rusty agreed pleasantly. "Had lunch with him." He paused as if waiting for a comment but there was none. "He and his brother are in charge of Larner's which makes them in charge of every aspect of Larner's."

He threw a glance at Danny.

"I wondered about the why of the top floors. Just the way they were talking. And I was right. The views."

"The views?"

"Constantine and Alex live there. Up above the office floor that we saw there's a floor with-"

"-suites," Danny finished. "For when they have visitors."

Rusty nodded. "And for Alex and Constantine. Corner penthouses, in fact. They are on site pretty much 24/7."

"Those little pockets of security on the plans…"

"Holding rooms. Have to be."

"Paper, rock and scissors."

"High-tech and protected."

"Limited access."

"Card-controlled elevator, remember?"

"Keep everyone away except-"

"-those whose job it is to guard them."

"Yeah." Danny's eyes focused unseeing on the pizza in his hand.

"You two finished?" Rick asked with a hint of exasperation.

"Yeah," Danny said again and the pizza was nowhere near his mouth.

"It sounds complicated," Eduardo said tentatively.

Rusty shrugged. "Just layers upon layers upon layers. Like millefeuille. Even if we're only scratching the surface, we need to know what we're dealing with."

Rick checked his watch. "I'm going to phone Perry and see where we are with the-"

"We could take them down," Danny said suddenly and they all looked at him.

"We could take them down," he repeated, coming back to himself. "The whole operation. Alex has got the movements of the goods in that black folder, right?"

Rusty nodded.

"We get access to that and we can blow their operation wide open. We can-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Rick interrupted. "Where's all this coming from?"

"We can do it, Rick. We can cause complete chaos." Danny's eyes were shining with the possibility. "We can bring them to their knees-"

"Why would we?" Rick demanded.

"We can siphon off the jewels," Danny said, his words falling over themselves in the haste to be said. "We can-"

"-we can intercept the shipments," Rusty supplied, "we can cherry pick the most valuable and the others-"

"-we can divert-"

"-we can leak details-"

"-have the operation shut down-"

"-_both_ ends-"

"Stop it!" Rick shouted and they both looked at him. He leaned forward for emphasis. "This is nothing to do with the job. This is nothing to do with Doug Quentin. This is nothing to do with Alisha and Anton. This is not up for discussion."

"But, Rick," Danny began, "we can-"

"Just because we can, doesn't mean we should," Rick told him. "Why would you want to have these guys after us? What's next on the list? Robbing a casino?"

"If there's more confusion," Rusty suggested, "it'll help hide our tracks-"

"No," Rick said again. "No." He locked his gaze on Danny's. "We don't do anything impossible. We don't do anything startling. We stick to the job in hand. Otherwise…"

Danny's gaze wavered and then he lowered his eyes.

"But it _isn't_ impossible," Rusty said earnestly. "That book of Alex's had everything in it - details on lots sold and shipments arriving. It has to be up in his room or locked in a safe and if we can get that-"

"Rick's right," Danny said emotionlessly. "We need to focus on what we're here to do."

"But, Danny-"

"No, Rusty. No. We concentrate on what we're doing."

Rusty stared at him hard and Danny's chin lifted a little and there was no moving him. Eventually, Rusty picked up another piece of pizza and sat back in the chair and ignored Eduardo, pale-faced, and did his best not to react to the smug satisfaction that was emanating from Rick.

* * *

Later and the pizza had been devoured and Danny had stepped outside on to the top of the stairs to make the phone call to Teresa that he always tried to make once a day. She sounded happy and busy and she asked for Rick and was a little disappointed when he said that Rick wasn't there. He'd told her that he loved her very much and that he'd be home but not soon and he'd hung up and closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the wall. Not for the first time, he wondered about life and fate and chance and twists and turns of fortune.

"Why?"

The word was soft and he turned his head and saw Rusty standing there with empty pizza plates in his hand. For one second, Danny thought he was asking about Teresa.

"Why?" Rusty asked again and the word was still softly spoken but with a hard little edge all of its own.

_Why did you back down?_ Danny read and he sighed.

"It can work," Rusty said fiercely. "We can make it work. Why are you listening to Rick? Just because he doesn't have the balls to-"

"Rick has plenty of balls," Danny corrected. "He just happens to be right. We don't need complications. If you start thinking too big, then…"

"Then what?" Rusty snapped.

"Then people get hurt," Danny told him.

"We'd take the risk out of it. Or if it was too risky, we wouldn't attempt it but can't we at least have a look at it?"

"No." Firm. Final.

Full of disappointment, Rusty's eyes told him he was a coward not to dream and Danny said nothing and didn't meet his gaze and pushed past him back through the door.


	13. Words and Whisky

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: didn't create the boys. Although have wonderful Ocean's Eleven Babies picture in my head. Like X-Men Babies. But with cards. And cake. And guinea-pig racing. Le sigh.

A/N: Ffnet uploaded Chapter Twelve but decided to keep it a secret. Just in case you start reading this and go "huh?" :)

Chapter Thirteen: Words and Whisky

* * *

Rusty stood at the top of the stairs, the dirty pizza plates in his hand and he heard the door shut behind him and sighed. Danny. Danny Ocean. Smart and professional and…and… And nothing. Danny was nothing. It didn't matter if Danny wanted to waste an opportunity. It didn't matter that he himself had got caught up in the flow and the excitement. It didn't matter that for the first time in a long time... Danny was nothing to him. He shook himself and carried the crockery back downstairs.

Maria was behind the bar as he deposited the plates on the side and he flashed her a smile he didn't feel. Obviously it wasn't that effective because she caught hold of her barman's arm.

"Johnny, take over for me for a bit, will you?"

Then she smoothly lifted a bottle of malt and two glasses and gestured with her head.

"Come on," she said and he followed her out back and down the stairs to the basement flat where she lived.

* * *

The flat hadn't changed. Main room with two bedrooms, bathroom and kitchen off. Still sparsely decorated apart from a wall full of photos of family and friends and he spotted the one of Maria and him and Saul and Mitch, laughing and carefree and he pushed the unhelpful emotions back down where they belonged. His step did not falter and he took a seat at the table, his back firmly to the photos.

"So, tell me," Maria said, sitting down, pouring two drinks and pushing one of them across the table his way.

"Nothing to-"

"Don't give me that," she warned.

Rusty sipped the drink slowly and let the warmth heat his mouth and throat. There wasn't anything to tell. There was no story. There was nothing to-

"Rusty…" she said gently and he held the drink in his hand and studied it.

"Here for a job," he said eventually, breaking the silence.

"That much I worked out," she said dryly. "Welcome as you would be, I didn't think you were back here on a social visit." Maria took a drink and then added softly, "I'd like it if you were. Saul's been dead, what, seven years now?"

Rusty smiled without mirth. "Fine malt."

"…and I've seen you four, maybe five times…"

"Best I've tasted in a while."

"…you don't have to be a stranger..."

"Smooth and silky."

Maria sighed. "Alright. You don't want to hear it."

No, he didn't. He didn't want to and he didn't need to. He was perfectly happy not hearing it.

"Tell me about the men you're with instead," she suggested. "Rick and Danny and Ed."

Safer ground. Slightly.

"Only met Rick and Danny a couple of days ago," he explained. "Rick's slick and does not like to be challenged."

He felt her gaze slide to his jaw and back again and kept his own gaze steady and non-committal.

"Why do I think you're proving challenging?" she asked and he grinned suddenly at her.

The answering grin died down.

"I like Danny," she volunteered. "He's easy to talk to and he plays cards well. He seems nice"

"He is nice," Rusty agreed. "He's…" _Surprising?_ "…smooth and silky like the malt."

"Sounds like you like what you see."

There was a little hint of something in there and Rusty hesitated and then decided to let it go.

"Danny's a professional. I approve."

"And Ed?" Maria's eyes were on her whisky and the casual note was loud and not at all genuine.

"Ed's…" Rusty's fingers tightened on the glass. "He's a quick learner and he's easy company." He felt the look she wasn't giving him. "Not like that," he clarified and a wave of inexplicable sadness washed over her face. He paused and then added, "In any case, Ed's not a permanent arrangement."

"You swapping him in for an older model?"

Her eyes were dark and curious and it took a moment for him to get it.

"Danny?" He gave an easy laugh. "Like that's happening."

"You want it to happen?" Maria asked. "Because you could make it happen."

"Even if I wanted Danny as a partner - which I don't - he has a partner already."

Maria shrugged as if to say _"what's the problem?"_ and Rusty shook his head at her.

"I don't want a partner. I don't _need_ a partner."

"Any kind of partner? Maybe Danny and Rick aren't on that kind of footing."

"Oh, they aren't," he agreed fervently and went on, "Danny and _I_ aren't on that kind of footing." He saw her purse her lips. "There's maybe a little professional attraction," he admitted, his eyes back on his drink. "He's…his instincts are good. Solid. And he handles himself well. Thinks on his feet and his reflexes are excellent. I've been out with him and it was…we worked well together."

His voice was softer and he only realised the silence when he looked up from the whisky and saw Maria smiling wistfully.

"That's all there is to it, Maria," he said firmly and she nodded and topped up the whisky: her face was neutral and he doubted she was in the least bit convinced.

"So you're not sleeping with Ed-"

"No."

"-you don't want to sleep with Danny-"

A snort and a roll of the eyes.

"-and you don't want Danny as a partner."

"You got it."

"So why's Ed being blown out exactly?"

_Looking at soft dark eyes that were open and as easy to read as a novice poker player. Eyes that carried worship and wonder and he sighed inside to see it. _

_There was courage in there too. He thought of the man-trap and the pale face and the inner grit and the resignation and the acceptance. He'd gone back for Ed because he didn't have to. Ed had acquitted him of all blame. It had meant he absolutely had to rescue him. Not that he wouldn't have tried anyway. He was never one to not do something._

_But now, Ed was mended. It had been a few weeks, a couple of months, in fact, for bones to knit and wounds to heal. There had been considerable time spent in Ed's company and he hadn't wanted to admit to himself that he'd enjoyed it as much as he had._

_He knew what Ed wanted. Correction. He knew the two things Ed wanted. And one was most definitely not happening. As for the other… He'd explained to Ed that he worked alone. And Ed had nodded and _still_ he'd asked silently and with every fibre of his being._

"_Three months," Rusty said finally and Eduardo had beamed and Rusty had shaken his head at him and laughed at the enthusiasm of youth._

"It was always meant to be temporary. Giving him a bit of guidance and encouragement."

"Like-"

Blue eyes blazed fiercely before she could finish the sentence and she shut up.

"Somehow three months became six became eighteen became two years. This is the last job we're working. Wanted to introduce Ed to some good contacts in the States. People who know people. Rick and Danny are precisely that."

"So you're just going to cut Ed loose."

"Yep."

"And you're going to go solo."

"Done it before and I can do it again. Partners are just dead weight."

Maria frowned. "That's not what Saul would say."

"Don't, Maria."

"He wouldn't want you to be on your own-"

"I said don't," he interrupted and then knocked back the whisky and stood up and didn't think at all about the photo behind him. "You've got a bar to run," he reminded her.

"You've got a life to live."

"I've got a life."

"Have you?" Her gaze was searching and he made himself meet it. "Rusty, it's not a sin to care whether you've known someone two years or two days."

"It's not a sin," he agreed. "It's something else entirely. Thanks for the whisky."

He turned on his heel and left and heard her sigh behind him. He'd meant what he said. It wasn't a sin. It was a weakness.

* * *

_**SomeTime…SomeWhere…**_

Silver eyes were concentrating on golden threads. Earlier, she had been smiling. Earlier, the two strands of life had been close, almost touching. Now, they were further apart, like magnets that repulsed rather than attracted.

"They won't get any closer simply by you watching."

She didn't have to look round.

"One step forward, two steps back?" the other's voice suggested and it was somehow worse that there was not a hint of satisfaction within it. Her mouth set in a line.

* * *

Outside the room, he paused for a moment and ran a hand over his mouth. Then he gathered himself and opened the door.

"Rusty!" Ed exclaimed and he flicked him a smile. "Rick's heard from Perry. He's going to go and see him tomorrow and he's going to take me along."

The last was said with a little pride and excitement and Rusty's smile grew.

"That's great, Ed," he said and looked across at Rick and added sincerely, "Thanks."

Rick gave him a lazy nod of acknowledgement and turned his attention back to the TV.

"Perry always comes through," Danny murmured, busy laying out lines of solitaire. "Rick, tell Eduardo about the time with the camera."

"Graham Marsh?"

"Yeah." The smile was on Danny's face as he studied the cards and started moving black on to red.

Rick shuffled round in his seat. "The first thing you have to know, kid, is that Danny does not do pets. Any animals, really."

Danny looked up. "How is that relevant?"

Rick spread his hands wide. "The iguana?"

"Iguana?" Eduardo repeated.

"Big lizard thing."

"I know what an iguana is."

"Danny didn't," Rick muttered.

The story went on. Rusty stood at the door and watched the three of them as if looking at a play. Rick and Ed in vivid discussion and Danny, keeping his eyes on the cards and nowhere near Rusty.

Rusty gave a sudden shiver. Somehow, there had been a shift. And now he was on the outside looking in.


	14. Individual

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: the boys aren't mine

A/N 1: oh, many congratulations to ZairaAlbereo for becoming Mrs ZairaAlbereo – this chapter's most definitely for you. Although I wish it were a bit more about love and forever.

A/N 2: America, why do you not have seaside rock? Am sulking for lost simile.

Chapter Fourteen: Individual

* * *

Conversation had continued. Rick lounged in a chair, beer in his hand, expounding on various exploits to an entertained Eduardo. Danny carried on with the cards, dropping in comments from time to time. Rusty sat at the table, a little apart, the plans spread out in front of him, reading and rereading the technical specifications.

At one point, Eduardo had come for more beers and had placed one in front of him.

"Y'OK, Rusty?" he'd murmured and Rusty had flashed him a practised grin.

"Fine, Ed. You?"

"Yeah," Eduardo nodded, smiling slightly. "Rick tells a good story."

Rusty glanced casually over to where Rick had been holding court.

"He behaving himself?"

Eduardo's eyes fell on the shadow of the bruise on Rusty's jaw and Rusty caught him looking.

"Ed…" he said warningly and Eduardo gave a guilty start.

"Come on over and sit down," Eduardo suggested.

"I got to look these over."

"Then I'll stay-"

"No," Rusty said as Eduardo started to pull out the chair. "You go and relax. I just want to run through these again."

* * *

"And then…then…" Rick could hardly get the words out for laughing, "Danny turned round and…and…"

Danny sighed. "And there was this spider."

"A spider!"

"A _huge_ spider. We're talking Spiderzilla."

"You have never heard the like. He screamed like a little girl."

As Danny looked on ruefully, Eduardo laughed loudly and mis-swallowed the beer.

"That's right. Mock me," Danny muttered goodhumouredly as Eduardo choked and Rick reached over and slapped Eduardo on the back.

"Do something useful, Mr Arachnophobia, " Rick suggested, "and go and get more beers."

The hesitation didn't even make it to Danny's face. "Sure."

* * *

Rusty didn't even look up as the bottle was placed in front of him.

"You planning on staying there all evening?"

"Just checking a few things out." He concentrated on the drawings.

The paper was gently pulled from his fingers. "Come on, Rusty. Come and relax."

He looked up at Danny, wanting to be friends again; wanting to talk about krill and _The Philadelphia Story _and cards and the con; wanting to smile at him once more as he had in the car with that stupid look of trust and belief.

"Is that why you never do what you could?" he said, low and fierce. "Can you never be bothered to look for another angle?"

The smile that was on the edges of Danny's eyes withered and he nodded once, twice and then turned without words and returned to Ed and Rick and picked up the deck and dealt another hand of solitaire.

Angry without knowing why, Rusty didn't watch him go and most certainly didn't regret the words. This was nothing to do with new friendships whatever Maria might think: this was all about the job.

* * *

Rick had reeled off story after story and Eduardo had sat and drunk them all in. There was funny and there was clever and there were close-run things. He'd started to recount some of his and Rusty's own adventures but Rusty had looked up sharply as he'd begun and he tailed off. Not that it seemed to matter. Rick was happy to narrate and if Eduardo's eyes flickered anxiously every now and then over to Rusty, Rick didn't seem to notice at all.

He went for another set of beers and this time, he sat down beside Rusty without giving Rusty the opportunity to say no. The flash of exasperation he got from Rusty disappeared as soon as he saw it.

"What do you want, Ed?" Rusty's attention was buried in lines and rooms and security and Eduardo wasn't convinced there was anything new being elicited.

"Rick and Danny..."

"What about them?"

"They've been together for five years."

"Yeah."

"And they work well together."

"I'm sure."

"And they...they care for each other."

"Seems that way."

"Rusty..." Eduardo reached out and laid a hand on his arm and his back was to Rick and Danny and only Rusty could see his face, if only Rusty would look up at him... "Rusty..."

Rusty's eyes burnt suddenly into his. "What is it, Ed?"

Almost, his nerve failed him. He was almost sure that Rusty knew what he was going to say and once he'd said the words and heard the answer, that was it. The door was closed and there was no chance it might be reopened and he had wanted to say this since cold finality had reached out and squeezed his heart. He hadn't had the courage and maybe tonight, maybe tonight it was the beer talking.

Rusty was staring at him just a little too intently and Eduardo realised he thought maybe undying love was about to be protested and he gave a quick grimace of heartache. He wasn't nearly drunk enough to voice what they both knew.

"Please," he said instead. "Please. We work well together and we make a good team and we...we have a connection and we have things in common and we...we like each other..."

The smile on Rusty's face was thin. "You sound like a classified ad. GSOH seeking LTR."

He ignored him. He had to. He had to say this, to ask this and if not now, then never. "Please don't send me away, Rusty. Please."

* * *

The pain in Eduardo's voice was deep and rich and he made himself listen to it. There was naked pleading in Ed's eyes and he forced himself not to flinch and look away. He was responsible for this. He, alone. He'd allowed this partnership to grow and to develop and to become so much more than he'd ever intended. And if he had created this and allowed it to flourish because Ed had been a fun and easy companion and someone whom he wanted to see succeed and make the most of what they had in life and because he'd wanted to teach him and watch him blossom....if he had done all this (and there hadn't been any other motives - there _hadn't _been), then he had to have the strength to tear it down. He had operated successfully on his own before. There had been life before Ed and there would be life after.

Keeping his voice reasonable and calm and free from emotion, he kept his eyes on Eduardo's and said again what Ed knew, the truth that Rusty had made very clear when they had got the call from Doug, "This is going to be our last job together, Ed. Once we've dealt with Anton and Alisha and Doug has his Canaletto back, we're going our separate ways."

White-faced, Eduardo closed his eyes and exhaled a couple of times and then licked his lips and nodded. The rush of penitent misery ran through Rusty and he screamed it down silently and got to his feet, impossibly controlled.

"I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

Rick was feeling mellow and chilled. The pizza had been excellent, the steady stream of beers had been welcome and the little flash of tension between Danny and Mr Marvel hadn't escaped him. Seemed like Danny was starting to realise where the sense in the room lay. Taking on this outfit for the sake of it...Rick scoffed to himself. And yet...for a second or two, he'd thought Danny might insist on the craziness.

It was craziness. It was the kind of wild suggestion that Danny would come up with on a regular basis when they were first together. The madness used to pour out of Danny then. And out of twenty madcap schemes, it had been Rick's job to nod and to pick out the one or two that seemed to have a chance of succeeding. Danny had come to value the reality check.

Talking to the kid about what they'd gotten up to together...Rick smiled. For all the weird that Danny thought up, there was always the wonderfully profitable. And considering the restrictions that had been imposed on their working relationship, it had been packed with incident and, for the most part, success. _Belize _whispered through him and his smile became a little fixed. Well. That was the reason they wouldn't be trying any nuthouse ideas again.

He was a good story-teller and he could tell Eduardo had enjoyed listening to him. He'd caught interest and delight and amusement all in the right quantities and towards the end of the last tale, there had been even an element of jealousy. Good. Maybe now everyone would stop looking at Rusty as if he could walk on water.

Danny had been quiet. For Danny. Something was troubling him and Rick had looked at his face after he'd come in from phoning Teresa and he'd wondered what exactly had been said. And then Rusty had come back in a little while later and there had just been something in the atmosphere...probably what Rusty was doing sitting on his own. Looked like he and Danny had had words. Rick had been pondering on that. He felt he still needed to make sure Danny woke up and smelt the roses where Rusty was concerned.

Right now, Rick was trying to figure out where his beer was. He swivelled round in the chair and caught sight of Rusty, tight-lipped, standing up.

"What is eating golden boy?" he wondered aloud, idly and softly.

Danny threw a glance at Rusty and then studied the cards on the table. "We may never know."

"Maybe they've had a row," Rick said in a stage whisper and Danny flicked him a glance of amusement.

"Maybe," he whispered back, equally as loudly.

"Heading for bed," Rusty called over and if he'd heard or not, it was impossible to tell. "I'll see you in the morning."

Without waiting for goodnights, he disappeared into his bedroom. Eduardo remained seated at the table.

"Hey, kid," Rick said. "You fermenting that alcohol yourself?"

Eduardo sat up straighter as if composing himself and then turned with a bright smile.

"I cannot do homebrew."

* * *

Rusty shut the door and leaned up against it and the picture of Ed, wretched and hurting, was vivid in his mind. And like the pain in Danny earlier, it was his doing. Fuck. _This_ was why you worked alone. _This_ was why you didn't get involved. Feelings were messy and unreliable and dangerous. He didn't need them. He didn't need them at all.

* * *

The other three drifted to bed a little while later and as the door shut behind him, Eduardo's smile dropped and so did the tears. Fuck. Why did it have to hurt so badly? He knew the score. He knew it back whenever when Rusty had told him three months and he'd been secretly delighted in extension after extension and maybe on some level, he'd dared to hope it was forever. The way Rusty looked at him, even if he was never going to look at him in a requited fashion... Rusty's smile and Rusty's pride in his work and he loved this life so very much. Living and breathing and working and being with Rusty.

He tried to look past Rusty and his life seemed colourless and somehow it had shrunk. Eduardo took a deep breath. He was going to have to accept it.

* * *

Danny lay and looked at the ceiling in his room and thought of the hand life dealt you. The cards that could fall in any order and what tricks you had to meet them. What you did. What sort of man you were. He knew the qualities he had to offer. Loyalty and bravery and honour. Those were the traits that ran through him. Cut him open and at any point, that was what you found.

And from the point of view of the con, he understood his abilities. He knew he was quick to see an outline, a shape of a plan. Others – Rick and Rus…Rick - could sketch in the details. Danny's skill was in crafting the shell of the scheme and you needed to be able to reach out and touch the shell. Nothing too fantastic or outlandish. Good, honest, achievable cons.

_"Is that why you never do what you could?"_

Something mutinous rose up inside him and he pushed it away. He rolled on to his side and thoughts collided: the effort of staying calm and in control when all you felt was panic and fear; the horror of peeling a body off the floor and seeing blood and skin left behind; the stupidity that no sleep and endless worry and more than anything, that wild imagining could lead you into.

_"Just because we can, doesn't mean we should"._

Good words. Sound advice. He closed his eyes and the mutinous came back with a vengeance. Rusty's face swam before him. It was rich in disappointment and it told him there was always a way to do the impossible and now, Rusty was listening to what Danny had thought of the auction and encouraging and supporting and Rusty was insisting that they consider the bigger plan and it _was_ possible, Danny was sure of it and he could see how it might work, although there would have to be circumstances and conditions and-

Guilt flashed through him: Danny's eyes shot open again.

* * *

Rick snored contentedly. Then he turned over and mumbled happily in his sleep.


	15. Surfaces

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: just playing in the playground.

A/N: there's a good chance that I will need to blame otherhawk at some point for the distinct lack of plot cohesion. "Why is otherhawk blameworthy?" you cry. "Why indeed?" I answer. "She is just made that way."

Chapter Fifteen: Surfaces

* * *

Sleep had been fitful. The emotion running through him had been intense and draining and even the little snatches of rest had not been restorative. But this was morning and there were three men to be faced and there was the job and this was about being professional. Professional and effective: he could do that.

Similar thoughts were being had in two other rooms.

* * *

Maria looked up as Rusty headed down the stairs. Unusually, he was the last one to appear and the other three were sat round the table with coffee and toast and light conversation. The conversation had stilled a little as Rusty had walked towards the table and then Rick, the one that Rusty had described as slick and not handling defiance well, spoke up.

"You heading for the coffee, Rusty? Could do with a refill."

The tone was neutral but even Maria could tell there was a sharpness underlying, a desire to bring Rusty to heel. And Rusty was completely untrainable, this much Maria knew. If Rusty ever decided to settle down with someone, she pitied the someone: they would have a _lot_ to put up with. She stood behind the counter, waiting for the biting retort from Rusty, the quick one-liner that would be accompanied by an impertinent grin and an answering scowl.

Nothing.

Carefully, she turned her head and saw the unthinkable. A hint of hesitation. As if Rusty might actually-

"At last," she declared. "Was thinking you'd blown up a wall again and didn't want to tell me about it."

A half-second and then he smiled widely at her.

"You don't think you'd have heard it?"

"I put nothing past you. Sit down and I'll get your breakfast." She picked up the coffee pot and marched over to the table. "Who wants a top-up?"

* * *

Rusty had walked down the stairs and hoped he didn't look as much in turmoil as he felt. He was an actor and a good one at that. And if he had to act Rusty Ryan, conman, he would do. He was almost certain he could until he could finally regain his poise and control.

He'd thought he'd be OK but seeing Ed and surprisingly, seeing Danny had brought a rush of last night's useless sentiment. Not that either of them looked terribly comfortable. Danny's face was drawn and tired as if he hadn't slept that well and Ed was suddenly studying his toast: he wasn't sure about Danny but he was certain Ed had been crying.

He'd thought he'd be OK but hearing Rick's quick throwing down of a gauntlet, he wavered. Maybe meek and compliant was the way to go…don't make waves, keep your head down, get the job done, get out of there…

He'd thought for a moment he wouldn't be OK. And then Maria rescued him and he anchored himself firmly in control and competence and he slid in between Eduardo and Danny.

"Morning, everyone. We all set?"

* * *

Danny bit into toast and forced a tight grin on to his face. Sounded like Rusty wanted to play nicely again and really that was the easiest way forward. Not like he ever had to see Rusty again the other side of this job. Not like he ever again had to look into those blue eyes that demanded honesty and answers and that stirred up fresh feelings of guilt and it was all so raw _anyway_…

"I'm dropping in to see Alisha mid-morning. Rick and Eduardo are off to see Perry. And…"

There was a hint of a question mark in there.

"-and I'll source Charles Mortimer's apartment," Rusty finished, buttering toast and smiling up at Maria as she furnished him with a plate of food.

"Make it classy," Rick instructed.

Danny almost winced. Rusty didn't need telling.

Rusty chewed the toast and stared at Rick and Danny knew he was considering his response.

"It'll be somewhere even the most uncouth would consider classy," Rusty promised.

Rick nodded approbation and Danny looked furiously at his coffee and bit his lip.

* * *

Eduardo had kept his head down and had kept quiet when Rusty had joined them. He'd decided that he wouldn't make a scene, not now and not whenever. The last thing he wanted was Rusty remembering him as whining or clinging or desperate. He would be everything Rusty had tried to help him be. And as long as he didn't have to spend too long in Rusty's company, maybe he could pull that off. Wasn't like he was going to break down in front of Rick, say.

Rusty sitting down beside him had been a trial. The nearness of Rusty, the man's presence: it was as sharply thrilling as it always was and always had been. Eduardo swallowed and spent a lot of time cutting through a fried egg.

When the four of them stood up to leave, Rusty caught him by the elbow. Before Rusty could whisper anything, ask him if he was alright, make any kind of concerned comment that would open up the carefully self-sewn wounds, Eduardo got in first.

"I'm fine, Rusty," he said in a low voice. "I'm focused and I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me. I can do just fine by myself, remember?"

It was surely what Rusty wanted to hear. It was what he'd told Rusty often enough for various reasons. And at some point, he'd have to make sure it was true.

Rusty's hand glided off his arm.

* * *

Alisha's face had lit up when he'd walked through the door and Danny smiled as she stood up and stepped away from the desk.

"Mr Mortimer!" she welcomed, "Oh, I wondered when you'd be coming back again."

Her hand was laid casually on his and his smile widened.

"It's Alisha, right? Please call me Charles. And…well…I thought I had a reason to return." The slight hesitation was enough to elicit a squeeze of his arm. "I _hoped_ I had a reason," he clarified, his eyes set to smoulder, just a little.

Her hand tightened further and the delight in her face told him he'd hoped correctly.

* * *

Charles Mortimer would command a place of muted magnificence. Tasteful and opulent. Rusty knew what he was looking for; he just had to find it.

Laura at the letting agents was extremely helpful to Mr Sullivan and his search for a furnished apartment to rent for his uncle. Mr Sullivan left with several promising suggestions.

* * *

"Come on in," Perry suggested and gingerly, Eduardo stepped over boxes and crates and in to a room where every surface was covered with _something._

"You OK, Perry?" Rick asked, close on Eduardo's heels.

"Never better," Perry assured him and then disappeared into a cloud of wheeze and smoke. "This way."

Eduardo was grateful for the instruction because there was simply no order to anything. The place looked like it was full of a mad inventor's rejects.

"Here you go," Perry handed a small device over to Rick. "That'll do the business." He held up a saucer-shaped black plastic unit. "And this is the receiver. Plug it in to any computer and you're away."

Rick grunted approval. "What about the other? Did you find something?"

"Naturally." Perry sounded offended. He pulled a small case off a shelf. "You'll understand it was a bit of a rush."

"Yes, yes." Rick sounded impatient and held out his hand.

"What about my money?" Perry said shrewdly.

"Give the man his money, kid."

Doug Quentin had given them access to a float fund with an ever-changing PIN. All withdrawals were to be accounted for by a phone call which Rick had made on the way over. Eduardo handed over a bundle of notes and Perry looked satisfied as he relinquished the case.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Rick. Give my regards to Danny."

Rick clicked open the case and stared inside, his expression indifferent. Curious, Eduardo peered over his shoulder and then battled to keep the dismay off his face.

* * *

Alisha had been thrilled when Charles had explained that he actually wasn't too familiar with the auction process and that he hoped perhaps Alisha would be good enough to explain. And perhaps she would be good enough to let him take her to lunch at a chic restaurant while she did so.

"It's very straightforward," Alisha assured him as he filled her glass with an expensive red. "At least it is at Larner's. I can't speak for other organisations of course."

"Of course."

"We would look at the item which you wished to sell, place a value on it and if that was acceptable to you, it would be entered into our general auction with a reserve price which it would have to meet. If the item sells, then we deduct a modest commission and arrange for the goods to be shipped to the purchaser."

"It is straightforward," Charles agreed. "You explain it beautifully."

Alisha preened in the praise and Danny kept his smile full of impressed awe.

* * *

The security system deactivated, Rusty cracked the lock on the fifth apartment. The previous four had each been wrong in one way or another and he stepped over the threshold with a critical eye that was hard to please.

His eye found what it was looking for. Heavy drapes, deep carpet, marble fireplace and reasonable oils on the walls.

Rusty checked the paperwork. Mr and Mrs Thomas Harden, away on a round the world cruise, expected back in eight months' time, looking for a tenant on a short-term contract. Rusty smiled. They'd just found one.

* * *

Danny and Rusty arrived back at Maria's within seconds of each other and there was a semi-awkward silence of two people who had been more than socially polite and who were now taking a step back on to a more formal footing.

"How d'you get on?" Danny asked as they walked up the steps.

"We're up one apartment. How about you?"

"Oh, she's biting." Danny opened the door.

"Hey! Danny!" Rick beamed as he sat on the couch. "Perry's come up trumps as usual."

Eduardo was nowhere in sight as Rusty closed the door. Danny and he moved forward until they were standing by the table.

This," Rick held up a small piece of grey, "is the little bit of magic. It's called a leech. Buries itself into a computer system and sucks off whatever you want. Databases, records, you name it, we get it. It uses the target system's power source and it translates the information into…"

Rick's explanation continued, the technobabble getting more elaborate. Rusty saw Danny stare at the object, his face neutral, his hands firmly at his sides.

"And this is the other little bit of magic. Receives all the info and displays it." Rick triumphantly produced black plastic and Danny gave that a look of equal weight and nodded slowly.

Rick put the leech and the receiver carefully away and Danny lifted his eyes and caught Rusty's gaze. Danny's lips pursed and Rusty couldn't help the smile twitching around his own lips: he knew – _knew – _that Danny and technology were a mismatch.

"Looks good, Rick," Danny said and his eyes were _daring_ Rusty to laugh or to say something.

Rusty kept his face solemn and his eyes otherwise and on Danny. "Does look good, Rick. Very effective."

_Don't you- _Rusty heard the words without them being voiced.

"So, Danny," Rusty went on, his voice even. "What sort of range do you think we should be looking at?"

"Range?" Danny's voice was admirably nonchalant.

"Yeah. What do you think we can get away with? Given the specifications that Rick's outlined."

Danny was silent for a moment although his face was vociferous.

"I'd have to say-"

"We'll be fine right here," Rick interrupted impatiently. He shook his head at Rusty. "Weren't you listening?"

The door opened before Rusty could say anything and Eduardo came in, clutching a cooking pot.

"Chicken casserole," he said to the room and he shot a worried glance in Rusty's direction that Rusty rightly interpreted as having little to do with whether the food would taste good.

* * *

Rusty followed Eduardo into the kitchen.

"What is it?" he asked tersely and saw Ed almost flinch at the abruptness. "What?" Rusty said again, his voice softer.

"Rick showed you the electronics?"

"Yes, he showed me-"

"Rusty," serious and low, "I know I'm not as…you know so much...it's probably OK and I'm just-"

"Fuck's sake, Ed," Rusty said without heat. "Spit it out."

* * *

"What is the problem?" Rick asked for maybe the eighth time.

Rusty had the crude vase in his hand and his face was tight with fury. "This isn't good enough."

"It's vague," Rick said. "It could be anything from any era. We can put a story round it."

"We have to get it to auction in order to put a story to it," Rusty's tone was clipped. "Larner's are not going to include a shapeless bit of clay in their catalogue without verification and-"

"-Danny can get it in there," Rick told him.

"It needs to be standalone," Rusty snapped. "It needs to be perfect-"

"-it will do fine-"

"-it's weak-"

"-it doesn't need to be-"

"-it _has _to be credible-"

"-I don't hear Danny complaining-"

"-I mean what the hell brief did you give anyway-"

"Danny can-"

"-what if Danny can't-"

"You don't know _what_ I can do." Quiet and pointed.

Rusty broke off and stared at Danny. He ran a hand over his mouth. "True. Look. I'm not doubting you. I just…" He shot a fierce glance at Rick who was scowling openly then drew in a deep breath and put the vase down on the table, trying to regather his inner calm. After a moment, he looked up at Danny again. "It's not good enough. Give me two, maybe three days tops. I'll get us something that will work a hundred times better."

Danny picked up the vase and looked first at Eduardo, troubled and tense, then at Rick, sullen and sulky, and then at Rusty.

"Alright," he said and Rusty felt the relief rushing through him.

"Danny!" Rick was immediate and furious. "What do-"

"Three days, Rick," Danny's eyes were back on Rusty and his voice was calm and reasonable. "We can wait three days."


	16. Wounds

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: oh, they aren't mine. Really they're not. This should be a surprise to precisely no one.

A/N: am refraining from A/Ns except to wish ZairaAlbereo a decent night's sleep and to tell otherhawk to go to the (expletive deleted) doctors.

A/N 2: Monday, I guess, will do.

Chapter Sixteen: Wounds

* * *

As Rusty opened his bedroom door, ready to leave, he found Eduardo up and dressed and sitting on the couch.

"You're up early, kid," he commented, pulling his door to.

"Picked that up from someone," Eduardo murmured.

There was silence for a moment and then they both spoke at once.

"I wondered if you-"

"You sit tight."

Eduardo opened and closed his mouth and then opened it again. "I could-"

"No." Rusty was definite. "I'm not being awkward, Ed, this is something I need to do alone. And you're better off here. Rick and Danny are going to need help setting up the rest of the con. Not to mention the dog thing."

Ed looked like he wanted to talk and really, that was the last thing Rusty wanted. It was important to get Ed used to the idea that he wasn't going to be around, to wean him off his company. A few days apart would do Eduardo good. He caught something in Ed's eyes and frowned before suddenly realising.

"I am coming back, Ed," he reassured and he could see the flash of relief as Eduardo realised it was the truth. He sighed inwardly. Looked like it would take more than a few days.

"That's good to hear." Danny came out of the bathroom and Rusty turned his head. "Hate to think you were quitting halfway through a job."

"I'll be back before you know it," Rusty promised cheerfully.

"Something to look forward to."

"Rick not coming to wave me on my way?"

Danny smiled thinly. "I wouldn't hold your breath."

"Fine. I'll see you in three days."

* * *

Danny watched the door close behind Rusty and looked down at Eduardo who was staring after Rusty with a peculiar kind of wistfulness. That's what love did for you, he supposed. He wondered if Teresa stared after him like that.

"It's OK, Eduardo," he said and the younger man's gaze fixed on him. "Three days will fly by."

Eduardo flashed him a quick tight smile. "Yeah."

"Do you know where he's gone?" Danny asked curiously.

"Nowhere I know," Eduardo replied and then hesitantly added, "I'm sorry, Danny. I feel this is kind of my fault. I just-"

"No," Danny cut across him firmly. "You went with your instincts and that's right. That's what a conman should be about."

_Rusty had demanded and Eduardo had looked guilty; Rick had produced the vase and Danny's heart had sunk. This was going to be a tough sell. He'd seen the lots within Larner's. None of them resembled a lump of amorphous clay. He was going to have to work on Alisha with a maximum charm offensive._

_And then Rusty had challenged it and Danny had stood and heard him say the things that he, Danny, felt. That it wasn't good enough. That it was weak. And Rick had defended it and Danny could hear the same arguments that Rick would have used on him. Admittedly, they were delivered with a bit more venom. _

_Rick would have talked him round. Danny knew it. Rick would have told him he could do the impossible and Rick would have been sincere and believed it and Danny would have felt the weight of responsibility to live up to what Rick thought he could do. And he lived in fear of failing Rick's expectations. _

_Rusty wouldn't take no for an answer and Danny envied him that stubbornness, that determination. And as much as he wanted to back Rick, to show support and solidarity, he found his instincts were siding with Rusty. Besides, there was truth in what he had said. There wasn't any harm in waiting three days to see what Rusty came up with._

_The argument over the vase...well...deferred rather than over, Rusty had considered for a moment and then had apparently decided he was never going to be on the top of Rick's Christmas card list. He turned to Danny._

"_The best place to site the leech is going to be the IT room. It's on the same floor as the vending machine. It'll mean another visit but we already thought it might. And putting the leech there will mean that you can be sure of accessing the entire system." Rusty looked at Rick. "I'm assuming you know how to site it."_

_Rick's smile had not been friendly. _

"Has he gone?" Rick emerged from his bedroom, yawning and running a hand over his hair and without waiting for an answer, added, "Then we can get on and do."

* * *

Rusty waited till he was in the taxi and heading to JFK before he pulled out his phone and dialled the number. It had been a lifetime ago since he'd spoken to the man but the number was unlikely to have changed. The man wasn't likely to have changed either. The phone was picked up on the third ring.

"Hello," he said experimentally. There was a startled silence and then the voice the other end swore softly. Rusty closed his eyes. "Hello, Carter."

* * *

Carter Pryce. One of Saul's oldest and most trusted friends and one of the men who had helped develop and hone Rusty's skills in the long con. Mitch's too. Rusty sat on the flight to Detroit and thought of long ago excitement and thrill and newness and freshness. He'd been green then. Green and keen and he'd burned with the desire to learn and to earn his way in this world, this life he'd chosen. He'd been flying so high…

Rusty thought about Saul getting reports from Carter on both Mitch and himself and smiling so broadly and now, looking back, he could see Mitch's face, he could see Mitch getting quieter and he wondered why he'd never noticed it at the time.

Towards the end, Mitch had worked with Carter more and more. And Rusty could see now that that was an escape for Mitch. A chance to go and work and not feel as if he was in anyone's shadow. A chance not to look at Saul and see what Rusty was sure wasn't there. What Rusty was certain had never been there…

Rusty's fingernails dug into his palms and he blinked hard at the safety instruction card.

"It's alright, son," said the old guy next to him. "Safest way to travel."

Rusty smiled and didn't bother pointing out that it was the destination that he was worried about.

* * *

The man who opened the door to Rusty was immediately identifiable. Oh, his face might have more wrinkles and his moustache might be greyer but this was still Carter and all the preparation that Rusty had willed into himself seemed to grow more brittle at the sight.

"Come on in," Carter invited. "Expect you're hungry. We can lunch out by the pool."

Plates of bread and meat and cheese lay between them. Carter had added bags of potato chips too.

"I'm not a teenager anymore," Rusty pointed out and Carter just looked at him and fished cans of Coke out of the fridge.

"It's been a while," Carter said with understatement and Rusty bit into an untidily constructed sandwich and tried to ignore the calm, steady gaze sitting opposite him. Carter wasn't Saul but he was cracked out of the same mould. Little got past him and lying to him was completely pointless.

"Thanks for seeing me, Carter," he began. "I need to ask-"

"You weren't the only who cared, Rusty." Carter leaned forward in his chair. "I could have helped."

The words were fierce and heartfelt and Rusty had the feeling Carter had waited a long time to say them.

"You did help," Rusty said eventually and Carter waved a hand dismissively.

"Sorting out the funeral? Keeping Fat Joe sweet? That was nothing. You should have come to me, Rusty."

"I'm here now."

Rusty's tone closed down the conversation Carter wanted to have and Carter looked at him long and hard and then sighed.

"Tell me."

* * *

The explanation about the Quentin job was always going to be involved. Rusty's first attempt kept unnecessary details to a minimum but Carter was smart enough to know this wasn't a one man show. Reluctantly, Rusty told him briefly about Eduardo and Rick and Danny.

"Danny Ocean?" Carter looked thoughtful. "I know that name."

"Not like it's easy to forget," Rusty tossed a handful of chips into his mouth.

"Mmm. It'll come to me." Carter's eyes were doing the weighing up thing that Rusty remembered. Damn, he was like Saul. "And Eduardo is your partner?"

Rusty drank the Coke. "We're working together at the moment," he said eventually.

Carter wouldn't let it go. "At the moment?"

"I work best on my own."

"Really?" Carter sipped his drink and gave him that look of consideration again. "How is he?"

Rusty bit his lip. "He's good," he said and he kept his voice as colourless as possible. "He's sharp and he's quick-witted and he's going to make a fine, fine conman someday."

"Like-"

"Like you."

Like Carter. Like Saul. Like everything Rusty'd ever hoped he himself would be. Brilliant and unorthodox and finding the angles others wouldn't.

"Like you," Carter insisted and his eyes were unblinking and Rusty was looking at Carter, at Saul, at the weight and belief of so many years and it was overwhelming and it was painful and Rusty dropped his gaze to his sandwich and the memories threatened to flow and he needed to head that off at the pass.

"You don't know me," he said sharply and he was locked-down emotion and supreme control and Carter sat back in his chair and exhaled slowly.

* * *

Continuing the dance with Alisha meant taking her to lunch again and wining and dining and flirting. Laughing with his eyes and his mouth, his head on one side and his lips making unspoken promises.

Alisha was responsive and Danny watched her bloom in the warmth of attention and interest and he felt the familiar twist of betrayal and guilt.

* * *

Rick dragged the last box out of Eduardo's arms and panting, grinned up at him.

"That's the end of it, kid. Now we just need to get unpacked."

* * *

Danny walked in to an array of computer equipment.

"Looks comprehensive," he commented. "Guess we need to think about planting the leech. Tomorrow night."

"Yeah," Rick nodded. "Leech'll be planted tomorrow."

And the carelessness in Rick's voice almost brought the question to Danny's lips but then Maria arrived with dinner and the moment was lost.

* * *

It was later and they'd eaten pizza and they were drinking beers and the sun was setting. Rusty had delivered a thorough breakdown of what had happened to Doug Quentin and the plans for the Uncle Charlie and the Reverse Susan. Most importantly, the Reverse Susan. He had been professional and detailed and succinct and Carter had sat and listened, interjecting with an occasional question.

Rusty had felt surer of himself as he spoke. Back on safer ground. Away from anything that was going to… Safer. Surer. This was being kept on a professional footing. What he wanted. The only way he could possibly be here.

"So," Carter said, "just to recap. What you want, what you are looking for, is an extremely faithful counterfeit piece that will hold up under close scrutiny."

"Yes."

"And Danny…" Carter frowned as if he was still trying to place the name. "He's capable?"

Impressions of impressiveness flashed through Rusty.

"Yes."

"Right."

Carter stood up and disappeared into the house and reappeared, tossing a small box at Rusty who caught it one-handed. He opened it up and looked inside and then back at Carter, genuine astonishment on his face.

"We can pay," Rusty said. "Doug Quentin can-"

"I don't want money."

"Then, I would-"

"I don't want a favour either." Carter told him.

No payment. And that meant-

"I'm doing this because ten years ago, I met a bright, shining star of a boy who flashed through life like a comet, who blinded like the sun with his talent and his skill. He was amazing. One of my oldest friends thought so and I agreed."

"Carter-"

"No. You _listen._"

Words died on Rusty's lips.

"I loved watching you grow. And I missed you when you were gone. And I am more glad than you realise that you are here with me now. I'm doing this because I want to help. Like I wanted to help back whenever. I don't need money and I don't need favours. I believe in you, Rusty. And that's all I need."

And the words washed over Rusty like rain on parched soil. Carter didn't seem to need an answer which was lucky because he didn't trust himself to speak. He drank his beer and stayed silent and tried to ignore the flicker of warmth inside him.


	17. Acquaintance

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own the boys.

Chapter Seventeen: Acquaintance

* * *

Rusty had started thinking about making _"I must be going" _noises_ - _after all, there were a couple of places close by where he could stay - and the look that Carter had given him was worthy of Saul at his best. Consequently, he had been ensconced in one of Carter's spare rooms and had woken to a soft bed and warmth that hugged him. It was rich comfort and he lay for a while, permitting himself the moment of weakness of feeling cared for.

Coming to see Carter hadn't been part of the plan. When the subject of the Reverse Susan had come up, Danny had looked at Rick who had shrugged and said Perry could handle that as well and that he'd call him and Danny had nodded with confidence. That confidence. It had been misleading. Rusty had trusted Perry and Rick's judgment because Danny had. And that was all about liking the guy rather than anything quantifiable. Damn it. Rusty's hands balled into fists.

They had been left with a weak link in the chain and so little time for Rusty to do anything about it. It wasn't like he had the range of contacts in the States that he did in Europe. He'd needed a man who knew people. That meant seeing Carter again and fighting the past just to deal with the present.

Liking Danny had led him to this. Emotion. Leave it at the door. Never mind the first rule of poker, it was the first rule of life. He shrugged the duvet off and headed for the bathroom.

By the time he came down the stairs, Carter was making waffles in the kitchen.

"After breakfast, we'll head over to see Wilson," Carter said, pushing maple syrup in his direction as he sat down at the breakfast bar. "Gave him a call first thing and he's on standby."

Rusty poured syrup on to his waffles as Carter added, "I remembered where I knew the name Danny Ocean from."

"Did he front a group in the Sixties?"

"My friend, Scott. He talked once years ago about a young man, new to the con who had more imagination inside him than he knew what to do with. Scott said it was running out of his pores. Said there were no limits to what he could do."

Rusty bit into the waffle and chewed. "Must be a different guy. Danny Ocean I've met is _all_ about the limits."

Carter frowned. "Well, he did drop out of view. Maybe something happened to him."

_...a hotel room and bullets and death and despair..._

"Maybe," Rusty agreed and ate more waffle.

* * *

_**SomeWhere…SomeTime…**_

She was wearing a cloak of shifting light that was all colours and no colours. At the moment it was concentrating on not being purple. Her air was jaunty and triumphant as she looked over the playing field. Eyes flashed silver at the other who was studying the same picture thoughtfully.

"Attention to detail. Plus ça change…" she said gaily.

There was a considered silence.

"More things _have_ changed," the other pointed out.

"Not the important things," she laughed. "Never the important things."

The other tried again. "Different circumstance leads to different circumstances."

"Not with these two," she smiled and span on her heel, scattering starshine as she did so.

The other watched her go and then turned back to the bigger picture. He wondered if he should have tried harder to explain that differences could mean differences and the same all at the same time. He shrugged. She had seemed content. It would wait.

* * *

Back at Maria's, Danny's phone rang as he was shrugging his way into a crisp white shirt and a dark suit.

"I want you to know I haven't been to bed yet."

"Reuben!" The smile lit up Danny's face. "How are you?"

"Never better." Reuben broke off and coughed heartily and cheerily. "Cigars and alcohol and good living. I'd recommend it to anyone."

Danny smiled at the image of Reuben, smoking jacket, glass of whisky and Havana's finest in hand, encouraging an aerobics class. It was an amusing thought.

"Spoke to Doug Quentin. Now there's a guy who needs a better wig-maker. He said that you and Rick had hooked up with Rusty Ryan and his partner."

"Yeah."

"Well, I never met his partner but Rusty… You know, I stood in Monte Carlo and watched him at work and it was _exciting_. Cards fall from his fingers like…"

_...like they were meant to…_

"Yeah."

"He is _good_, Danny."

Rusty dealing, Rusty with the plans, Rusty thinking of the cradle, Rusty in the corridors at Larner's, Rusty scorning the vase and demanding the best, Rusty rescuing him in the car… Talent wrapped up in cold hard brilliance that hurt to brush up against.

"Reminded me of you."

Reuben's words brought Danny back to the conversation.

"Me?" Curious.

"Danny…" There was weariness in Reuben's voice. An old weariness. "Remember that I've seen you in action too."

Flashes of the past sparked through his mind. _Reuben, trusting and asking for help...Reuben, believing... _

"That was a long time ago." Danny's voice was as distant and faraway as the memory.

"Once seen, never forgotten." Reuben sounded amused. "What? You think my mind isn't up to it anymore?"

"So what?" Danny's voice grew sharper. "You trying to set me up with a new partner? I've got a partner in case you've forgotten. So's Rusty. And I can't speak for him, but I am certainly not looking to change."

There was a pause.

"I'm not looking to set you up with Rusty."

And that was a lie. Danny knew that was a lie. "That's exactly what you're looking to do." His voice was low and pained. "Rusty isn't Rick."

"Danny-"

"Reuben. Don't try to interfere."

There was silence and he wondered if Reuben was going to press matters. He didn't want to hang up on Reuben but he would and Reuben knew he would. There was a heavy sigh.

"How's Teresa?" Reuben asked and Danny took the change of subject gladly.

* * *

Danny had left for the morning and Eduardo sat awkwardly watching Rick deep in thought. He had no idea what the delay was. As far as he knew, they were supposed to be sourcing a van and a cage - cages, possibly, probably - with uniforms and with tranquilizers... It was Rick's idea. He surely had been working on the where and the who.

After a little while, Rick nodded to himself and then looked up at Eduardo.

"So this is what we're going to do."

Eduardo listened to the revised plan for the day and the protest rose up in him. This wasn't what Rusty - or Danny, if it came to that - would be expecting. Rick must have seen some of the words he wasn't saying.

"They aren't here, kid. Up to us to sort it."

"But Rus-"

"Rusty isn't here!" Rick's face was ugly with anger before he regained self-control. "Rusty isn't here. We are. Live a little. What? You gonna do everything Rusty wants? Don't you think he'd be pleased if you branched out a little on your own? Showed a little initiative?"

Eduardo hesitated. And then he nodded slowly. Rusty wanted him to go solo. Make his own decisions. Well, this would be the start of it.

* * *

There was a steady stream of people at Larner's when Danny arrived mid-morning. He smiled acknowledgment at Alisha who was busy with an elderly lady in a mink coat. Judging by the expression on Alisha's face, there were other places she'd rather be and other people she'd rather be talking to.

Danny mimed an _"I'll wait"_ and walked over to browse in the little gallery that led through to the main auction hall. He hoped he was moving at an acceptable speed with Alisha - any slower and he couldn't be sure she would co-operate when she needed to and any faster and...well, faster wasn't an option. The point was they wanted to use the next auction and that meant that time was- Danny froze.

The man in front of him was Rick. Rick who had promised to take care of what was needed for the dog thing today. Rick who was supposed to be gearing up for the window cleaning cradle tonight (and Danny was firmly not thinking about heights and high winds). Rick who was not meant to be anywhere near the daytime world of Larner's. _Teresa! _The name flashed into Danny's mind unbidden: maybe she had tried to call and maybe there was something wrong with his phone and maybe she'd got hold of Rick- Danny controlled the panic.

"Why are you here?" he breathed, not moving his mouth and staring intently at a small stone sculpture.

"I'm doing what I'm best at," came the answer. Rick swivelled round to look casually at the room. "Lots of people."

"Plenty. Rick-"

"That Alex?"

Danny looked vaguely in the direction where Rick's focus lay at the man with the customer service smile of welcome. "Yep."

"Huh. Was picturing someone more commanding."

An out of place tourist clutching bags from FAO Schwarz and Macy's hurried past them, as if he were intent on finding something or someone that didn't appear to be there. Danny's eyes tracked him for a moment and then Rick breathed, "My cue". Danny's head half-turned and then there was a cry and a crash and like everyone, Danny turned to see what had happened.

The tourist had tripped and fallen against one of the display cases at the top of the gallery and suddenly there were marbles everywhere.

"No!" There was a real note of distress in the tourist's _(familiar?)_ voice. "They were for my nephew! Oh, my!"

Everyone was looking at the tourist which meant…distraction. Obviously. Danny didn't have to look to know that Rick would be nowhere in sight.

* * *

"What the…?"

Startled, Constantine walked out of the elevator to unusual chaos. The calm of Larner's was shattered by hubbub and what seemed to be hundreds of little coloured glass balls underfoot.

"Alex."

Alex was on his knees helping a man in a surprisingly floral shirt gather the marbles.

"For my sister's boy, Leo," the man was gabbling. "Her youngest. Well, that sounds like she's got a trailerful. She's only got three. Kitty, that's the girl, she's the oldest. Seems it doesn't matter what I buy for her, I get it wrong. She's at that age. And then there's Billy. He's into sports like his dad-"

"Alex!" Sharp and demanding.

Alex scrambled to his feet. "Constantine. We're fine. Just a little issue-"

"So I see."

"This gentleman has been helping me," the tourist smiled winningly up at Constantine.

There was something and he didn't know what but he hadn't got as far as he had in life without listening to little feelings of unease. Constantine picked up one of the carrier bags and delved inside, pulling out broken netting wrapped round a baseball glove.

"Thanks," the tourist said, dropping the marbles in his hand into the carrier bag. "You'd think this netting would be stronger."

"Here," Constantine said shortly, pushing the bag into the man's hands.

* * *

Alex saw the cold anger in Constantine's eyes and knew that somehow this was going to end up being his fault. He really wasn't sure how. Wasn't like he was responsible for packaging in toy shops. Still, Constantine didn't like disruption to routine.

"I'll get this sorted," Alex assured him.

"As quickly as possible," Constantine snapped. "I am going out for an appointment. Make sure this is resolved."

He walked away and Alex smiled at the man he'd been helping. "Right. Let's get you into a taxi and…where were you headed exactly?"

"Larner's. It's a restaurant in Greenwich Village and my friend said it served the most amazing-."

"Wrong Larner's."

"Yeah," the man smiled. "I got that."

* * *

Danny watched Alex escort the interruption out of Larner's. He scooped up a handful of stray marbles and walked out the door, passing Alex on his way back in.

"Here you go." He handed the marbles over and Eduardo took them wordlessly. "You better have a damn good explanation-" Tight and intense with fury.

"We do." Rick was at his side.

Danny saw the woman in the mink leave. "It'll have to keep."

* * *

Wilson had looked old when Rusty had first met him; he looked positively ancient now as he stared down through his half-moon spectacles at the little box.

"I can do it, obviously," Wilson said finally. "Just wish I had a little more time."

"Don't we all," Carter smiled. "We need it for tomorrow morning."

"Afternoon," Wilson negotiated.

"Early afternoon," Carter compromised.

Wilson looked down again at the box and nodded. He glanced at Rusty and then at Carter and Carter's face didn't change at all. It remained smiling and impassive even as Wilson was asking the question.

Understanding, Rusty said quickly, "I can pay". He wouldn't be indebted to Wilson as well. But Wilson was still looking at Carter and then he turned to Rusty and there was a twinkle in his eyes.

"That won't be necessary." He looked at Rusty with a genuine smile. "Good to see you again."

* * *

The fury had not died down in Danny. He strode through the bar and up the stairs and opened the door.

"Danny!" Rick stood, beer in hand, arms open and welcoming.

"What the hell was that stunt you pulled?" Danny demanded.

"Look," Rick beamed.

The computer equipment was up and running, live data flowing through the screens. Danny stared at it and Rick pushed a bottle of beer into Danny's unresisting hand.

"Now," Rick said, "we don't have to go on any night op. Now, we don't have to worry about being caught. Now, we don't have to worry about high places either. Simple, straightforward, successful."

"Where did you…how did you…?" Anger deflated.

"The computer in the main auction room at the auctioneer's desk," Rick explained. "The very best place we could hope to site it."

Danny took a swig of beer.

"We're in business, Danny," Rick grinned and Danny slowly nodded.

* * *

"You never knew Saul's Annie," Carter said, pouring the whisky. "You'd have liked her. She'd have _loved _you."

Rusty took the whisky and said nothing as Carter sat down in the armchair opposite.

"She was the light of Saul's life. After she died, there was a time when I wondered whether Saul would pull through. And then Mitch came along, all sullen and untrusting and then you rocked up, all dirty-faced and self-sufficient."

There was a silence and they both studied their drinks.

"You both made him so happy," Carter said and Rusty watched amber alcohol swirl round his glass. "You've no idea how great that was to see. It was like he'd thawed out and come to life again."

"He's dead now," Rusty said tonelessly.

"And you're alive, Rusty," Carter sat forward. "You don't need to feel guilty about that. And you don't need to punish yourself by keeping yourself apart from the rest of the world."

"I'm hardly a hermit."

"You weren't made to be alone, Rusty. Let people in."

"You should have a chat show," Rusty suggested.

"This Eduardo, you talk about him like-"

"Ed's not up for discussion."

Carter blinked acceptance and tried again. "Rusty, you came back-"

"I'm back for this job."

"You saw Wilson today...and there are others, Rusty, others who would love to see you again and others you haven't even met that I want to introduce you to..."

"Wilson is doing this because of you," Rusty interrupted harshly. "And I've told you, Carter. I'm back for this job."

"One night only? Is that it?"

"Exactly." And he was ice, daring Carter to challenge the fact.

Carter sat back in the armchair, his face troubled and Rusty told himself he didn't care one little bit.


	18. Control

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: not mine. Just borrowing.

A/N: otherhawk doesn't bother reading my A/Ns. And when she eventually does, she doesn't listen to me. *plaintive sigh*

A/N 2: also, according to semi-serious sources, ffnet didn't bother telling people about the last chapter being posted. Again. Feel it is picking on me. ;)

A/N 3: thanks to otherhawk for pre-read and helpful suggestions and for not being MEEN.

Chapter Eighteen: Control

* * *

Rusty had spent the next morning at Carter's resolutely diverting any attempt on Carter's part to talk about the past, the future or indeed the present.

"You are so unbelievably stubborn," Carter scowled at him and Rusty shrugged off the annoyance and the concern and bit unrepentantly into a bar of Hershey's.

"You changing your mind about helping me?" he asked between mouthfuls.

"You know damn well I'm not." Carter sighed and then added a little hopefully, "Would you talk to me if I did?"

"No. I'd let you explain to Wilson that he has just undertaken a rush job that isn't needed. I'd get back on the plane to New York and there will be a second-rate piece used and the Reverse Susan will most likely fail. Doug Quentin will be disappointed and the four of us may be seriously inconvenienced."

"Like I'd let that happen." Carter's face was full of amusement and resignation. "You are a shrewd bastard."

"Thank you," Rusty smiled. "I try."

* * *

There was no answer when they got to Wilson's. Carter frowned and rang the doorbell again. Just at the point where Carter and Rusty were looking at each other and wondering about the niceties of breaking in to a fellow con's house when said fellow con's good health was in question, the door opened.

"In." Wilson beckoned and his eyes were half-closed as if he had been asleep and was trying to hang on to the last remnants of happy oblivion.

They made their way into Wilson's front room which was littered with newspapers and magazines. Carter pushed aside a pile of _Time _and the pair of them sat down on the sofa as Wilson disappeared.

"He doesn't get any tidier," Carter commented. "For one so precise and detailed, you'd think he'd be…" he tailed off as Wilson walked back in the room with two boxes which he dropped into Rusty's lap.

"Spot the difference," Wilson said tiredly.

* * *

Carter had insisted on driving Rusty to the airport and he'd insisted on trying yet again to break through Rusty's determined defences. Rusty had been adamant in his refusal to give in to persuasion and logic and emotion and Carter's lips had tightened. In the end, he'd grabbed Rusty's wrist as Rusty was about to get out of the car.

"Promise me you'll come to me again, Rusty. Not…not if you want to." Pain jabbed across his face. "If you need to. Promise me."

And that was an easy promise to make because Rusty planned on keeping far away from the States.

"I promise," he said sincerely. "And thanks, Carter."

* * *

Flight time was notime. Time between places and people and life went on hold until there was ground beneath one's feet again. A limbo. Nothing firm.

Rusty thought of another plane, long ago and far away, when he'd made the decision to leave the States and the memories. By that point, the decision whether to live or die had moved on from recklessness to indifference. He'd seized the opportunity to bury himself in a world where nobody knew his name. A blank canvas. Somewhere to start over. The chance to emerge from a limbo of his own.

He'd left behind empty and souldestroyed and he'd found colour and life and a freedom of sorts to function. Life grew more comfortable. Nightmares grew less frequent. Now, he was back with the cold and the grey and memories, never far from the surface, threatened to bubble over with a vengeance.

Rusty watched the clouds not move in the sky and firmly nailed down the pain where it belonged.

* * *

He'd phoned as he cleared JFK to give an ETA and Ed had managed to sound relieved and delighted and falsely casual all at the same time.

"How's things your end?"

_("That Rusty?")_

"Been busy."

_("Let me talk to him.")_

"Me too."

Danny came on the line. "Hey."

"Hey."

"How'd you get on?"

"Fine."

"We were going to head out to that diner. Give Maria a night off from cooking for us."

"Sounds good. I'll see you there."

* * *

The diner was nearly empty when he walked through the door. Eduardo and Danny were sat at the back and Rick was walking back from the washroom. At least Ed looked pleased to see him.

"You want to order, hon?" the waitress behind the counter asked. "I got the others lined up."

"Cheeseburger and fries and a Coke, please."

He headed over and sat down next to Ed and looked round the table.

"Wasn't expecting a ticker-tape parade but…"

"What'd you get?" Rick asked brusquely, sitting down opposite him.

By way of answer, Rusty produced the small box that Carter had given him and pushed it across the table at Danny who opened it and let out a low whistle.

"Gobrecht Dollar 1839," Rusty explained. "Worth up to a hundred grand at auction."

Carefully, Danny picked the silver coin out of the velvet and held it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Looks real," he said.

"It is real," Rusty told him. "We're borrowing it from a…from someone I know."

Rick picked the coin out of Danny's fingers. "Six figures? For a coin?"

"You sound sceptical."

"Try realistic."

"May I?" Eduardo took the coin from Rick and studied it intently. "What did you tell the someone?"

"What I had to. He does know we've got it, Ed," Rusty was amused. He took out the second box. "And here's its illegitimate twin."

Eduardo pulled it out and held it next to the first coin. "Impressive."

"Yeah." Rusty looked at Danny. "Now, to pick up a previous conversation, you're right, I don't know what you can do. But I'm betting that you're able to make a simple switch."

Danny smiled broadly. "What if I can't? What if the real thing gets sold?"

Rusty grinned. "Then I'll just have to steal it back again."

* * *

The smile had appeared within Eduardo the moment he'd seen Rusty walk through the door of the diner. He couldn't help it. Now that he knew that there was limited time to be with Rusty, he wanted to make the most of it, drinking in all the sunshine he could.

Eduardo'd guessed that the someone Rusty had been to see was someone from beforetime. From the time when Rusty had worked in the States. From the Saultime. He'd looked closely at Rusty through the meal and tried to work out if there were any ripples in the pool of Rustycalm. It was difficult even for someone who knew Rusty as well as Eduardo did to see the truth. Rusty seemed composed but even so, there was an edge there. As if some memory had stirred and Rusty had done his very best to bury it again. Eduardo wondered briefly if that's what he would be to Rusty: a memory that he wanted to forget about.

Danny seemed…not pleased, exactly, to have Rusty back…relieved maybe. Probably thinking about the job and the need for Rusty's input. Eduardo thought back to the conversations between them: it was obvious that Danny valued Rusty's thoughts. And Rusty coming back with the coin – the coins, in fact - had been all things impressive. So much classier than the vase.

Rick had been quiet through the meal but if Rick didn't say much then that was probably to be expected. Eduardo felt certain Rick had wanted Rusty to come back with nothing or at least, nothing better than what he, Rick, had sourced.

Eduardo, on the other hand, had been convinced that Rusty would provide magic. He couldn't imagine Rusty ever doing anything else.

* * *

Rusty was last through the door and his eyes widened with approval at the computer screens alive and working. He headed over and tapped at a keyboard.

"Excellent," he smiled.

"Oh, we aim to please," Rick muttered.

"You got back in OK, then," Rusty went on.

The silence made him turn round and neither Danny nor Ed were looking anywhere near him. Rick was leaning against the wall by the door, his arms crossed. Rusty slowly stood up.

"You got back in OK, then," Rusty said again.

"We…" Danny began and then Eduardo said, "We sort of…"

"We didn't go back in," Rick said. "We didn't need to go back in. My plan, Rusty. We worked to my plan. Not yours. My plan which was so much less risky."

Rusty's eyes were gimlets. "What did you do?"

"Eduardo and I executed it. Clean and simple."

Rusty's eyes flicked to Eduardo and back again at Rick and he kept his voice calm and clear and he asked again, "What did you do?"

Rick smirked. "You don't like the idea that someone else can come up with an idea, do you? You don't like the thought that I can make things happen without following the Rusty way. Fucking Yellow Brick Road…"

He didn't shout, he didn't swear, he didn't blink. He walked casually forward till he was standing in front of Rick.

"What did you do, Rick?"

The words were controlled and peripherally, he saw Eduardo shift uncomfortably and Danny start to look troubled and really, the only one in the room who didn't appear to understand some of what he was looking at was Rick. Rick, still leaning against the wall, still with that smug expression and Rusty wondered briefly how surprised Rick would be if he kicked a leg from under him and had him down on the floor, his arm wrenched behind his back. More than a little, he'd wager. Wouldn't be the first time he'd had to be violent to get some answers. Didn't make a habit of it, didn't like it: didn't mean he wouldn't do it.

Rick looked as if he was enjoying himself. As if stringing the moment of imagined disconcertedRusty out was absolutely his next move. A wrong move. Rusty shifted his weight just a little-

"They went in during the day," Danny said and Rusty whipped round to stare at him.

"I ran distraction," Eduardo contributed. "And Rick planted the leech. And look, Rusty, he did a good job."

Rusty ran a hand over his mouth and turned back to Rick. "Where did you put it?"

Rick looked surly. "Main computer on the auctioneer's desk. Hotline. Best place."

"Best place?"

Rick straightened up and walked over to the computers, looking for all the world as if he would knock Rusty's shoulder as he did so. He didn't make contact and Rusty felt this was probably a good idea.

"See, hotshot. We did it. Access."

"Full access?" Rusty asked softly. "All programs?"

For the first time, Rick looked taken aback.

"I said that the IT room upstairs would give us the best chance for hacking in to all the programs. This is feeding in from a PC downstairs. Restricted privileges."

"We got the auction-"

"-we got shipment? We got incoming goods? We got records?"

Rick was silent.

Rusty turned to Eduardo. "You starting to think this wasn't such a bright move?"

"Rusty, I-"

"Save it." He glared at Danny. "What about you, illustrious leader? Didn't you want to get your hands dirty? Were you busy looking for a short-cut?"

Danny held his gaze. "Can we move it?"

"No. The leech will have-"

"-locked into the PC," Rick finished. "Imprinted. We can't shift it."

"We could get another leech," Danny suggested. "There's still time."

"Two leeches in the system will mean overlap and feedback…" Rusty paused, remembering whom he was speaking to. "Like when you have two hi-fi speakers next to each other. We won't be able to trust the information."

"So what do we do?" Eduardo asked.

Rusty looked round at the three of them and stared down unhappily at the screens for a long moment before sighing. "Make the best of it," he suggested.

* * *

It was some time later. Eduardo had been mostly silent. He'd looked as if he thought he'd somehow betrayed Rusty's trust by helping Rick with the alternative plan. Rusty hadn't gone out of his way to talk to him and Eduardo had disappeared to bed early.

By some sort of unspoken mutual consent, Rick and Rusty had avoided talking about the leech and indeed had said little to each other. Rick was still obviously smarting from having his brilliant coup exposed as a possible weak point in the plan: equally obviously, Rusty didn't think he needed to say another word on the matter.

Rick had sat and stared at TV with whisky and defiance. Danny had sat in the easy chair and ostensibly watched TV with Rick while in fact he was studying Rusty. Rusty was immersed in Larner's computer system, seemingly intent on exploring what he could, trying to understand what he had and how he could make it work.

"Going to bed," Rick yawned. He headed for his room without a look in either Danny or Rusty's direction.

Danny sat for a while, still watching Rusty tap away at the primary and secondary keyboard. He wasn't even certain that Rusty knew he was there. He wasn't even certain that Rusty cared. After a while, Danny left Rusty to it and slipped away to his room.

* * *

Instinctively, Danny knew it was still night when he woke, even before he opened his eyes or checked the time. He sat up in bed and rubbed the back of his neck and then noticed flickery light from underneath his door. Danny sighed. He couldn't remember turning the TV off and he got out of bed and went padding off to do so.

The TV was indeed still going and Danny moved sleepily, trying to locate the remote control. Then he noticed Rusty, still up, still staring at the computer screens.

"Rusty?" he said.

No answer.

"Rusty," he tried again and dropped a hand on Rusty's shoulder. Rusty pulled away and turned round.

"What?"

"It's…" Danny realised he didn't have a clue what time it was. "It's late. Early. It's something. You need rest."

Rusty gave a hint of a grin and went back to punching away at the keyboard. Danny perched on the couch and watched him at work.

"Any joy?"

There was a pause and then reluctantly, his eyes still on the screen, Rusty said, "No. I've been through every trick I know and some more that I didn't. Got those from my contact in the UK who did_ not_ appreciate being woken up. Also didn't appreciate not being asked to supply the leech in the first place. But mostly it was about the time difference."

"Are we screwed?" Danny asked and Rusty sighed.

"No. We're just not in the best place we could be."

There was silence for a while broken only by the tip-tap-typing of Rusty's fingers.

"If I didn't know that you don't have a technical bone in your body," Rusty said quietly, his eyes fixed on the data he was working through, "I'd be holding you responsible for this. As it is-"

"Rick was just trying-"

"Don't you dare excuse him." Cold and fierce. "He should have known and if he wasn't in such a fucking rush to point score, we wouldn't be in this situation."

"Are we screwed?" Danny asked again, ignoring the comments about Rick not least because he felt certain that Rusty had a point. "Because if not, then you need to let this go. Deal with it and move on."

Rusty's fingers stopped. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers over his face and then turned round and blinked tiredly at Danny.

"You want to know why I'm focused on this? Like I said, it isn't your fault." he said. "It isn't Ed's. He's still learning. It isn't even Rick's fault. He's just locked into short-term results. It's mine. I should have taken care of it."

"Oh, that's ridiculous. You sound like a complete control freak."

"Well. It's done, now," Rusty continued as if Danny hadn't even spoken. "Can't undo it. You're right. We've got to work with it. And I reckon we've got what we need for the Reverse Susan. Not like we're going for the bigger job, is it?"

Danny's mouth grew tight.

"So, yes, I will let it go. I will deal with it and move on. Because I have to. Because I have to focus on the rest of the details. Because I _need_ to be a complete control freak. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm hitting the sack."

He stood up and brushed past Danny and Danny stood and stared at the computer screens and made a silent vow to do his best not to let detail down again.


	19. Confidence

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: Maybe you can buy a little plot of them to own. Bet I know who'd sell it to me too.

Chapter Nineteen: Confidence

* * *

Sleep might have visited briefly in between the screens of datastrings that flooded past the back of his eyelids. In any case, Rusty was wide awake when the gentle knock came that could only ever belong to Ed. He sat up on the bed and made a noise of invitation and waited.

Eduardo didn't look like he'd slept much either.

"Rusty," he said as he closed the door behind him, "Rusty, I'm sorry, I'm so, so so-"

"Don't sweat it, Ed."

"But I didn't… Rick said and I thought… It just seemed such a… Oh, and it wasn't Danny's fault. He didn't know anything about it until we were inside Larner's and-"

"How did you get on with that?"

Eduardo stopped in mid-apology and blinked. "Alright." He considered for a moment. "Pretty good."

Rusty smiled at him and patted the edge of the bed. "Come tell me."

* * *

Rick had the door open to head round the stairs to breakfast when Eduardo and Rusty emerged. His mouth set in a tight line and emotions warred within him. A sneer at what had obviously being going on behind closed doors and the defensive at the partial screw-up. Partial, he kept telling himself. Words of aggression and scorn hovered on his lips. Rusty's gaze was coolly neutral and Eduardo started forwards as if to say something. Kid probably wanted to say it didn't look like what it looked like. Rick would tell him that yes, it fucking did.

Probably not the most diplomatic start to the day. Rick's mouth twisted and he headed out and down the stairs without saying a word.

Danny was already seated and eating. He flashed Rick a smile and Rick dropped into the chair beside him and said what he would never say in front of the other two.

"Sorry, Danny." He stared at the table and waited for the recrimination he had never heard.

A hand squeezed his elbow and he looked up to see Danny smiling. _Smiling!_

"Danny…?"

"Rusty and Eduardo up yet?"

"Yeah. The lovebirds fell out of their room just before I came down the-"

Footsteps on the stairs announced the arrival of the others and Rick sat up straight, his eyes on Rusty, ready to defend himself, ready to tell Rusty that he could fuck off out of it if he wanted and take the kid with him. He and Danny hadn't needed them to begin with and he sure as hell didn't need the smartass laying into him-

"Good, you're here."

Danny interrupted his train of thought and Danny's voice sounded..._different _somehow. More in charge. More... Rick looked askance at his partner. When he'd gone to bed he'd left Danny sitting on the couch and watching TV and there hadn't been any sign of the purpose that filled his face. Rick shot a suspicious glance in Rusty's direction but the carefully blank expression on Rusty's face suggested this was as much a surprise to him too. Rick shuffled his chair to allow Eduardo room to sit next to him and Rusty sat in his customary spot next to Danny.

"Alright, gentlemen," Danny began. "Now, last night there may have been more than a little concern that we are somehow going to mess this up. Last night, maybe we thought that we weren't in control of the situation. Maybe, last night, we were thinking about blame and blaming the wrong people."

Danny was looking away from Rusty with an intensity that suggested he wanted to fix his eyes on the man and make him see. And Rick wondered again about conversations he hadn't been privy to, about how much Rusty had laid into him behind his back and about what Danny had said. Danny would have defended him, he was sure. Almost sure.

"Actually, I'd like to draw a line under last night," Danny said. "No ill-feeling, no rancour, no blame. No self-blame."

And there was that pointedness in his voice again that Rick realised spoke to all of them.

"We have a number of things in place. We've identified a way to hit Anton and Rick, you're going to be working on the preparation for that with Eduardo. I want us ready to roll as soon as. As regards Larner's, we have two lines in with Alex and Alisha. Alex, for general information, Alisha, as a specific target. Thanks to Rusty, we have something better than we could hope for to use for the Reverse Susan. Thanks to Rick and Eduardo, we have the leech in place which will give us a direct feed into the heart of the auction. Over the next couple of days, Rusty and I will dress the apartment and then I'll take Alisha there and let her greed see what it wants to see."

Rick sighed. "You're forgetting the rest of it."

The smile was in place again. "No, I'm not. It would be nice to be able to sit here and access the rest of the system to manipulate Alisha's past dealings. It would be nice to look at the other goods coming in and identify other suitable targets. It would nice to check out the Canaletto's final destination."

"Danny," Eduardo began hesitantly. "Don't we need all that?"

"Some of it, for sure," Danny agreed. "And we will have it."

"How?"

It was the first and only contribution to the conversation from Rusty and it wasn't a challenge, it wasn't critical, it was curious. Rick saw Danny's grin appear. The grin that meant he was flying inside.

"I'm going to get it," Danny said simply. "Because I can take care of it."

And he was still looking at Rusty and Rusty was nodding and damn it, there was some sort of unspoken thing going on that Rick couldn't read. But there was a new shine to Rusty's eyes and there was an air of unbounded optimism from Danny and glancing over at Eduardo, Rick could see relief and belief: and somewhere inside himself, Rick felt the conviction solidify. They could do this. They _would_ do this.

* * *

Breakfast was over and the atmosphere around the table had been somehow relaxed and intensely focused all at the same time. It was as if Danny had pulled them up and shaken them and refused to let them think that failure was an option. Rick had even managed an exchange or two with Rusty without snapping or sarcasm. Eduardo found it hard to stop grinning.

This morning, he'd stood outside Rusty's door, eaten away by guilt and misery and Rusty hadn't wanted to hear about any kind of apology. Rusty had just sat and drawn out of him the story about the tourist and the marbles and there had been approval and encouragement just as there always was. Rusty hadn't wanted to hear any apologies and Eduardo had gradually lost himself in the story and Rusty's smile.

Then they'd walked out and seen Rick, hostile and smarting and Eduardo had wanted to say something – _anything _– to draw the anger out and to hope they could move on but Rick had disappeared before that could happen: Eduardo's good mood had been subdued.

Now, however…

"Come on then," Rick said to him, getting to his feet and Eduardo glanced at Rusty whose lips were pursed together with amusement.

"I'm ready," Eduardo replied and followed Rick out of the bar.

* * *

Danny watched them leave and then found Rusty's eyes on him, curious and questioning.

"That was quite a speech," Rusty said softly.

Danny smiled. "Did it sound like I'd been practising?"

"Had you?"

"Not exactly. Knew what I wanted to say in my head. Words just kind of came."

"Huh." Soft and maybe a little wary, as if there were something…

_What?_ Danny asked without words.

Rusty's eyes dropped down to his coffee cup and then he looked up under his lashes at Danny.

"Sounded like you were placing a lot of confidence in us."

"Well, I am-"

"Sounded like you were giving us your confidence."

"I…" Danny tailed off, sensing where Rusty was going.

"Giving us your confidence so that we would give you ours…?"

The question was quiet and pivotal all at the same time. The world seemed to hush and there was just Rusty and him.

"You think I'm conning you? You think there's another agenda going on?" Danny asked and his voice was as soft as Rusty's had been and he almost had the urge to reach across and grab Rusty's arm to make him see that he wasn't lying. "I am not conning you." And he left his absolute soul open and on show for Rusty to see the truth.

Rusty's eyes widened slightly and then he blinked and nodded. "I can see that." He straightened up in his chair and leaned forward. "Why the speech?"

Danny thought briefly of time spent earlier on a couch, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands and thinking about commitment and the fact that he needed to do a damn sight better job than he had done.

"Because this doesn't rest on one person's shoulders, Rusty. We will make it happen and we need to believe we can do that. Mistakes have been made but we can work round the curveballs."

"You don't strike me as a baseball fan."

Danny grinned. "You hardly look the sporty type either."

Rusty dragged a thumb over his bottom lip and he looked like he wanted to be convinced, like he wanted to believe... "So, going forward-"

"Going forward, we play the roles we were always going to play. One exception. You will be running the auction."

"Me?" Rusty frowned. "But Rick-"

"Rick's good, Rusty. Really, he is. He's quick and he's loyal and he's got great reflexes. But I'd have to be blind not to see that you are a class act. You will be running the auction."

Rusty nodded and there was just a hint of hesitancy that Danny correctly interpreted.

"I will talk to Rick," Danny said and he could hear the confidence and the purpose in his voice.

So apparently could Rusty. Rusty smiled suddenly and it was as if his whole face had lit up from within.

"Alright," Rusty said. "Let me show you the apartment."

* * *

Eduardo watched Rick negotiate hard for the van. He still wasn't sure why they couldn't just steal the van or just borrow it at least but Rick had shaken his head at him.

"Can't take the chance. The van's going to be visible both ends of the job and we need it to be credible. Getting pulled over is bad enough at any time but stolen animals aren't likely to cooperate by shutting up."

The next stop was a cash and carry and then on to a lock-up run by someone Rick knew in the city. His range of contacts was strong and Eduardo realised why Rusty wanted him to work with Rick in spite of everything. Rusty wanted him to pick out the best bits of learning that Rick had to teach.

They stood next to each other and looked at the van.

"Something tells me you've got an artistic streak," Rick said, throwing Eduardo a can of spray paint and holding up a stencil. "Let's see if I'm right."

* * *

"What do you think?" Rusty asked as Danny slowly walked round the apartment.

"Yes," Danny said simply and Rusty flicked a smile at him.

Danny had surprised.

Breakfast and the self-assurance had radiated out from Danny. It had been infectious and he'd been overwhelmed for a moment, carried away by...Danny, really. And then he'd resisted the smile and the eyes and he'd listened to the thread of solid self-sufficiency within him that demanded he take nothing at face value however seductive. But Danny had been able to answer him and he'd had to remind himself this wasn't about the personal: this was all about the professional and he could allow himself to like someone on a professional basis.

"I figure we can take out some of the feminine," Rusty indicated random trinkets and bowls of pot pourri, "and some of the clutter. Make it cleaner lines, more masculine."

Danny nodded. "We can add in some other touches too."

"The kitchen's through here," Rusty indicated a room off to the left, "and this is the bathroom and this is the master bedroom."

The bedroom was large and there was a heavy patterned dark blue counterpane covering the king size bed.

"We'll need to change the sheets." Rusty threw back the counterpane. "Think Charles Mortimer is less floral in his-"

"That won't be necessary."

Danny's face was tight and his body was stiff and Rusty frowned to himself for a moment. Then he remembered Danny's speech about cheating and lines that Danny wouldn't cross and he realised.

"Of course," he agreed and dropped the counterpane back in place.

* * *

They lunched at an Italian restaurant nearby and the conversation ran around cons and marks and tight corners. And then, over tiramisu, Rusty said:

"The man I went to see had heard of you."

"He had?"

Rusty scooped up sponge and cream and ate and mmm-hmmed.

Danny's lips twitched. "Was that you agreeing with me or the dessert?"

"Both," Rusty muttered out the side of his mouth. His tongue flicked out to catch a stray bit of cream. "Said his friend, Scott, used to talk about you."

"Scott…" Danny said wonderingly and his eyes lost themselves in memory…_Scott, encouraging and supportive and he'd learned so much in such a brief acquaintance…_"That was a long time ago…that was…" He came back to himself and picked up his spoon and stirred his coffee. "That was a lifetime ago."

He felt Rusty's gaze on him and then Rusty added, "Scott was very complimentary."

Danny looked up and the memory was nowhere near his face. "Yeah. He always was."

And Rusty waited but Danny said no more.

* * *

They'd broken the back of the work at the apartment in the afternoon. New items for Charles Mortimer's new abode had been acquired and there'd been a certain playfulness in that particular game as if there was an unspoken dare to show each other what they could do with the simple stuff.

"We'll finish up tomorrow," Danny said as Rusty pushed the latest box of the unnecessary miscellaneous into the bedroom.

"You want to go back for the wineglasses," Rusty remarked, pulling the door to.

"They were nice wineglasses," Danny pointed out.

Rusty grinned. "We'll leave them for Mr and Mrs Harden as a welcome back gift."

There was no chance for surprise showrounds. Rusty had returned to Laura and managed to acquire keys, the opportunity to change the apartment to unavailable on the system and the unwitting Laura's phone number.

As they headed back to Maria's, Danny's phone rang.

"Teresa?"

Anxiety made his voice sharp and Rusty fought the urge to look at him.

"Oh, right, right." Relieved. "No. That's fine. Of course. You know where the money- Good. Good." There was a long pause. "He's not here, honey. No. Soon. Soon. I promise. Love you. Bye."

Teresa… Rusty recognised the name. He'd walked in to the tailend of a conversation between Danny and Rick but he hadn't thought anything more of it. If it hadn't been for Danny's words up in the cradle about cheating, Rusty wouldn't have known there was anyone special in Danny's life.

They walked on in silence and then Rusty felt curiosity gnawing at him.

"Teresa…?"

"My wife," Danny said shortly.

Rusty didn't need to look at Danny's hand to know that he didn't wear a wedding ring. It was the sort of detail that Rusty took in on first glance along with the kind of shoes a man wore and his choice in watch.

No ring. Divorced, maybe? Or separated? The phone call had sounded altogether too affectionate on Danny's part. Maybe, it was a trial separation. Maybe, she hadn't known about Danny's life as a con artist. Perhaps Teresa had taken exception and Danny was trying to win her back while working on the Quentin job simultaneously. And then again, money had been mentioned.

An image formed in Rusty's mind of a demanding wife, laying down the law and Danny obliging. Huh. Relationships. He himself was well out of it.

* * *

Rick and Eduardo, faces streaked with paint, were asleep on the couch and the easy chair when Danny and Rusty returned.

Danny tilted his head to one side and studied Rick as he snored.

"Attractive as ever," he commented. He turned to Rusty. "You want to go and grab something to eat? Leave these two Sleeping Beauties?"

Rusty checked his watch.

"Sorry. Something I need to take care of."

"For the job?" Danny was surprised. "What?"

"Not related to the job," Rusty clarified and disappeared into his room.

Danny had found room on the edge of the couch next to Rick's feet by the time Rusty returned, changed into another shirt.

"You gonna leave me here with these two?" Danny said reproachfully. "Can't I come too?"

A little half-grin appeared on Rusty's face. "Yes and no. Don't wait up."

The door closed behind him and Danny frowned at it. Then he glanced down at his sleeping partner and frowned at him too for good measure.

"He doesn't have to tell me," he said to an oblivious Rick. "It's just it would be nice to know."


	20. Deception

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: not mine. Sigh. Do you think there's a Christmas club where you can save up each month for a nice surprise in December?

A/N: short chapter but it was as long as it wanted to be.

Chapter Twenty: Deception

* * *

Rusty was already sitting at the breakfast table when Danny made it down the next morning. He hadn't heard Rusty coming in and he stared hard at Rusty's clothes: he wasn't completely certain Rusty had actually gone to bed. Blue eyes looked at him with amusement as if Rusty could tell exactly what he was thinking.

"So where did you get to?" Danny asked, sitting down.

The amusement lingered and Rusty brushed toast crumbs off his fingers.

"Do you remember the part where I said it wasn't job-related?"

Danny looked at him levelly. "You could get really annoying, really quickly, you know that?"

There was a shrug.

"I count on that," Rusty nodded and Danny smiled in spite of himself.

"Rick and Eduardo need another day with the vans. They should be ready to go tomorrow." Danny buttered toast. "We finish off the apartment today and then I'll take Alisha out this evening. She can meet me there for drinks."

"Sounds like a plan," Rusty suggested. He gave Danny a contemplative look. "How were you thinking of getting that information we haven't got?"

Danny bit into the toast and chewed slowly, his eyes twinkling. "You remember the part where I said I'd take care of it?"

Rusty laughed, natural and genuine and delight in there. "You're a quick learner."

* * *

Eduardo watched the unguarded conversation from the top of the stairs and as he looked at them, relaxed and easy in each other's company, he felt a sudden rush of emotion. He told himself he was being stupid. Rusty had said he wasn't interested in Danny that way and that in any case, Danny was straight and Eduardo had believed him. Somehow, that made all those little half-conversations between them worse. If they had just wanted to climb into bed with one another, then Eduardo could have understood it but scenes like this with this little flash of connection…

Rusty didn't want another partner. Rusty didn't want _any_ partner. And Danny had a partner. This wasn't about that, it really wasn't. So what did that leave?

"Alright, kid?" Rick appeared at his side. "Come on, let's grab some food and get back to the lock-up."

* * *

Rusty put the final polished wineglass in place next to the Chateau Lafite of impressive vintage and stepped back with an appraising eye.

"Looks good," Danny commented from the couch and Rusty threw him a glance.

"You quite comfortable there?"

Danny grinned. "Perfectly."

Rusty turned his attention back to the apartment. It was finished. The main room exuded style and cool character, full of clean lines and carefully spotlighted items of value. He looked back at Danny, cross-legged, his arms along the back of the couch and he nodded to himself. Charles Mortimer looked at home here.

"We going for lunch?" Danny asked.

"Don't you have to set up your date?"

Danny shrugged. "S'pose. S'pose we could go for lunch afterwards."

Rusty held his gaze for a long moment.

"Or before," Danny suggested and a slow grin lit Rusty's face.

* * *

As the early afternoon sun flooded the lock-up, Rick looked the van over and then clapped Eduardo on the shoulder.

"Good job," he declared and Eduardo chewed the salmon and cream cheese bagel and smiled at him.

"Right, kid." Efficient and focused. "We grab the rest of the gear today and tonight, we'll go for a recce."

It took a long time to finish the mouthful of bagel; longer than it should have done.

"Rusty coming with us?"

Rick fixed him with a cool look and then he gave a careless shrug. "If he wants to."

* * *

Rusty did want to. Early evening, back at Maria's and Rick casually asked him in the manner of one who expects a "No" – who maybe is hoping for a "No" – but Rusty said "Yes".

"After all," Rusty said, "it's a three man job and it's hardly going to be Danny."

"Why not?" Danny was fixing his cuffs and had a look of affront that had some true hurt in it.

"'Danny does not do pets. Any animals, really,'" Rusty quoted and Rick let out an unexpected guffaw.

Danny gave his partner a long look of mock-reproach. "You just had to tell them, didn't you?"

"Better that they know than be in a tight corner with you and a spider and find out," Rick said with the voice of one who had been there.

"Was Alisha pleased?" Eduardo asked quickly before the spider argument could rage again.

"To be invited round to Charles's place? Absolutely," Danny nodded. Alisha had in fact done very little to hide her pleasure. "I'll show her the coin and start the ball rolling."

"Of course," Rusty pointed out, "the biggest worry we've got right now is that the apartment gets broken into and the coin is stolen."

"Don't." Danny shivered. "How unlucky would you have to be for that to happen?"

Rusty looked like he was pretending to think. "Have you let a black cat cross your path recently?"

Rick spoke before Danny could answer. "That relies on Danny recognising a black cat. Wouldn't put money on it."

* * *

_**SomeWhere…SomeTime…**_

"So how unlucky are they?"

She didn't bother to answer that one.

The other gave her a long look and then suggested in a low, measured voice, "They might be unlucky…"

A whisper of vision of a burgled apartment hung in the air between them.

"Not if I can help it," she said firmly. "And I can certainly help that. No intervention."

The other nodded thoughtfully. "As you wish."

* * *

The bar was packed and Rick, Eduardo and Rusty blended with the crowd effortlessly. Rick had been pleased to see the pair of them knew how to dress down. He had had visions of Rusty in a particularly startling shirt, drawing attention without even trying. They squeezed up into a corner with three beers and Rick casually pointed out the entrances and exits and saw Rusty and Eduardo taking them all in.

"Security?" Rusty murmured.

"Couple of big guys on duty."

"Think they'll roll over at the sight of a badge?"

"Reckon so," Rick nodded.

"Guess we'll find out," Rusty suggested and there was a hint of a question that Rick could sense but couldn't read.

"What?" he asked and it was Eduardo who answered.

"You going to lead?"

_Of course, I am. _The words were almost out of his mouth when he thought about it. Thought about Rusty, cool and collected and competent. Thought about what Rusty had done so far. Thought about how Rusty might handle this. Thought about Danny's reaction if things went awry.

"I think you should," he said and he could see Eduardo's delighted surprise and Rusty's curious speculation.

"Alright," Rusty agreed and Rick kept the satisfaction hidden within him. Even so, he caught a flicker of amusement in Rusty's eyes.

* * *

There was a wave of rich perfume and a sparkle of jewels and coiffured elegance stood in the doorway.

"You look amazing. Do come in," Danny smiled and Alisha stepped carefully into the apartment, obviously intent on giving Danny the full effect of her efforts. "Can I get you a drink? Red wine?"

"Thank you."

Alisha took up residence on the couch, legs tucked demurely to one side in front of her.

"You have a lovely place, Charles," she volunteered as Danny handed the glass.

Danny gave an easy shrug. "I like it."

He saw Alisha's gaze settle in turn on each of the valuable pieces, her dealer's eye noting and approving as she sipped her drink. Impressions were being made – the impressions that he wanted to be embedded: affluence and respectability; everything above board; a rich bachelor comfortable with his wealth.

"I want to tell you again how really lucky I feel that you've taken time to explain to me about the auction process," Danny told her. "And I wondered if you'd look at this for me. My uncle left it to me and if it's not too much trouble, I'd be grateful for your professional opinion."

He picked the box off the side and offered it too her as he sat down beside her, his own glass in his hand. Alisha opened the box and the silver gleamed in the light. She frowned at it.

"I'm not sure…I don't know…" She suddenly caught herself as if she had realised that she was in danger of falling down in Danny's estimation. "I'd love to have it valued for you, Charles."

Danny reached over and gently pulled the box from Alisha's fingers as if it didn't matter a fraction as much as she did. "I'll bring it in tomorrow, Alisha. Let's enjoy our evening."

* * *

It was late but Eduardo was still up and sprawled on the couch when Danny arrived back. There was no sign of Rick or Rusty.

"How'd you get on?" Danny asked, sitting down in the chair.

"Fine," Eduardo yawned, sitting up. "Looks straightforward enough."

Danny smiled. "They all do. Where are the others?"

"Rick went to bed. Rusty went out."

Out again. "Did he say where he was going?" Casual. Light. As if it didn't matter.

"No." Eduardo yawned again. "Said you'd probably ask though."

_Said- _Danny blinked and then shook his head and smiled to himself. The man was proving-

"How did it go with Alisha?"

The inner smile faded abruptly. "Fine. Absolutely fine. I'm taking the dollar in tomorrow and she will have it rushed through valuation with a view to inclusion in the auction."

He felt lucky it wasn't Rusty opposite him. Lucky that it wasn't Rick. He could hide from Eduardo. Sure enough, the kid was nodding and yawning again and then Eduardo stood up and made his excuses and headed for his room leaving Danny alone with the feelings of sharp betrayal washing over him.

_It had been a pleasant enough evening. Alisha had been suitably wowed by the meal and the ballet. There had even been a moment in the restaurant, with some droll comment that made him genuinely laugh, when Danny had sat and wondered if this was how his life might have been: beauty and intelligence and wit married together and sitting opposite him. And then screaming guilt at the very thought burned fiercely through him and he had drained his glass a little too quickly and sternly reminded himself of reality._

_He'd escorted Alisha home and they'd stood outside her place and he'd politely declined the offer of coffee and pretended not to see the disappointment in her eyes. The kiss had been unavoidable. And he'd avoided her willingly offered lips, he'd gently pressed his mouth against her cheek and still, still, it felt so wrong. Still, still, he saw Teresa, open-mouthed and shocked._

It was necessary, he told himself sternly. And it was business. It meant nothing. He closed his eyes and Teresa was still there, not understanding in the slightest.


	21. Operation

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: own nothing Oceany. But son has new swimming goggles.

A/N: warning. Chapter contains images of impossible cuteness. That appear to have been requested.

Chapter Twenty-one: Operation

* * *

Morning, bright and early and Larner's was empty apart from Alisha, Charles Mortimer and a security guard who prowled around the auction house ground floor as if trying to impress with his efficiency.

Alisha studied the Gobrecht Dollar with utmost solemnity and care as Charles sat beside her desk and watched. She turned it over and inspected the reverse with similar attention to detail and then smiled over at the handsome man who had swept into her life and swept her off her feet just a little bit. Just something about him…

"We shouldn't really be here, Charles," she said conspiratorially and he leaned closer, the pair of them sharing a secret.

"I really appreciate you taking time out to come in early," Charles told her - his smile was truly amazing - adding with a whisper, "especially when we're not supposed to be here."

The security guard walked close by and Alisha giggled and Charles twinkled at her and the secret between them grew deeper.

"Let me access some reference."

Alisha turned to her computer and started typing and smiled to herself as Charles's eyes drifted down to her fingers. It had been the same when she'd started up the system…he really couldn't keep his eyes off her…

* * *

Danny made it back to the flat for lunch and was greeted by inviting smells of cooking coming from the kitchen.

"Eduardo's making paella," Rick explained, looking up from his paper. "Apparently, Rusty fancied it."

"And Rusty's…?"

"Helping," Rick said shortly.

Danny wandered over to the doorway to the kitchen. Eduardo was at the stove, stirring a pan of brightly coloured food. Rusty was at his side, leaning up against the work surface, resting a fork against his lips and studying the progress of dinner intently. Eduardo had half an eye on Rusty and there was some sort of wistful affection in the look. There was an intimacy and definitely a "do not disturb" in the atmosphere and Danny withdrew quietly.

"What's the news with Alisha?" Rick asked, putting the paper down.

"She's cautiously optimistic about the Dollar. Going to check things out with a colleague and then I'm going to meet her for drinks tonight. She's sold though."

"Good," Rick nodded. "Well, that's the first step."

"You set for tonight?" Danny asked.

"Yeah." Rick sat up a little straighter and didn't quite look at him. "The kid and I are going in as handlers. Rusty's going to lead."

"Rusty…?"

"I suggested it."

Danny blinked for a moment at Rick's words. He thought of Rick, confrontational and aggressive and hostile. Really not Rusty's number one fan. For him to have suggested…Danny thought of the vase and the leech and of pride being subjugated by acknowledgement of skill.

"Thanks, Rick," and Danny's smile was broad and genuine and maybe this was the right time to mention the change of plans with the auction. "Rick, I-"

"Food," Rusty announced, appearing with plates and the conversation adjourned to the table.

* * *

The paella was good. Eduardo's paella was always good. A recipe from his grandmother that was one of the few memories Ed still carried around from home. Rusty lost himself momentarily in the blend of flavours and then came back to the here and now, glancing nonchalantly at the others to see how long he'd been away. Ed was smiling down at his food, Rick was scowling and Danny was looking highly amused. Long enough then.

"Had a thought on the way back here," Danny said and Rusty saw him not looking anywhere near Rick who had suddenly turned a frown in Danny's direction.

"Care to share?" Rusty asked quickly before Rick could say a word.

"I thought about Alisha's bank statement. And then I thought that Anton might have bank details too."

Ed wasn't getting it. Rick's frown said he didn't want to try and get it. And Rusty, staring at Danny, at what Danny wasn't saying, at Danny's eyes which were alive with possibility, Rusty saw the shape of the thought too.

"Anton's not really the sort of guy who keeps his money in the bank," Rick poured cold water on whatever the amendment to the plan was. "He's not-"

"The club where he works," Rusty broke in and Danny's face relaxed.

"-on the payroll-" Danny added.

"-probably-"

"-possibly-"

"-but this afternoon-"

"-in case-"

"Stop it!" Rick was furious. "Stop it now!"

Suddenly, silence. Rusty's eyes dropped to his plate of rice and chicken and peas and prawns. Danny's partner. Danny's call. He looked up under his lashes and Danny's face was full of tight apology. Rusty wasn't sure whether the apology was for Rick or himself. Probably both.

"Like this," Danny said softly and painted the picture.

* * *

Rick hadn't looked happy about it but he'd given them the address of the club. Eduardo had come with him and Rusty reflected that this was really the first time they'd worked together on this particular job. Strange.

"So what do you reckon?" Rusty asked as they studied the outside of the club as it slept in the sunshine.

Eduardo considered. "We could go official…but if we do that, there could be complications."

"If they're nowhere near above board," Rusty agreed.

"Which leaves unofficial and that means diversion." Eduardo looked at him. "You want to…?"

Rusty grinned. "Oh, I think you can be diverting in your own right."

Eduardo smiled back. "I learned from the best."

* * *

Skeleton staff in the afternoon, there to clean and prep and restock. Nick Wallace was in the back office, clearing down the tills and checking the change levels when he heard an almighty commotion out front. Nick swore. Shoving the money hurriedly into the safe, he went to sort out the interruption.

Ten minutes later, he returned from sorting out a belligerent rich kid who apparently did not take opening hours seriously. He pulled the money from the safe and sat down at the desk and only partly wondered at the small draught from the window in the corner.

* * *

Somehow the moment to discuss Rusty replacing Rick for the auction had passed. The TV was on and neither of them were really watching it. Rick was on edge and it was all to do with the embellishment that Danny had thought of. Rick didn't like change. Improvisation on the job when necessary but not a twist that he hadn't even been consulted about. And Danny felt a little guilty at that but at the same time, he felt so confident that it was a good idea and he wanted at the very least to try it. He could see how it would work and if they added in a phone call, that would be-

Danny stopped himself dead. He mustn't get carried away. There were always consequences.

* * *

They'd met up a couple of streets over from the club, smiling and successful and then there had been a patisserie that Rusty refused to walk past. They'd ended up inside with several cakes of cream and chocolate and strawberry and he'd looked at Rusty sitting across from him and he'd hated the thought that shortly, Rusty wouldn't be there at all. Oh, it was pointless to dwell on maybes and might have beens. He'd had such fun working with Rusty and he had to think about that and above all, not let the pain show anywhere near the surface. Rusty might decide that it would be easier to end things sooner. Not that Eduardo imagined Rusty would ever say goodbye. Rusty wasn't a goodbye kind of guy. Rusty would just walk out one day and never come back and that knowledge didn't help in the slightest.

When they'd got back to Maria's, Danny and Rick almost looked glad to see them and the news that Rusty had secured Anton's bank details was greeted with a smile by Danny and a shrug of indifference from Rick. Things had still been a little strained when Danny had left to see Alisha.

Now, Eduardo pulled on the uniform and checked out his reflection in the mirror. He thought he looked good. Then, Rusty walked in and caught the unspoken self-appraisal and smiled as Eduardo flushed.

"You do," Rusty assured him. "Couple of cute dogs and you could be a poster boy for the ASPCA."

The flush deepened. He knew Rusty didn't think of him like that and although it didn't stop him wanting Rusty to, personal compliments made him a little uncomfortable. Rusty must have sensed it as he did everything. He took the discomfort away at once.

"No number of cute dogs is gonna help Rick, believe me."

Eduardo laughed. He looked at Rusty, ready to go in his sober suit and tie and overcoat, sensible shoes and brown-framed glasses.

"And I know I'm nothing to write home about," Rusty went on, "but Rick's sitting outside on the couch doing a terrific impression of the angriest Animal Control Officer in the world."

The smile died down a little. "I didn't expect him to step down on this, Rusty. I mean it was his idea. I really thought he-"

"-yeah. Me too."

"Then why?"

Rusty gave an easy shrug. "My guess is that it's win-win for him. All goes well, then all goes well. If things go wrong, well...they wouldn't have done if he'd been in charge."

Eduardo nodded slowly. "Suppose that makes sense."

"Really?" Rusty flashed him a grin. "Mark it on the calendar."

* * *

They'd debated the right time to hit the bar where Anton's dogs were housed. It was tempting to wait until 4am when the bar was closing and there would be few spectators. There was the chance that the public might decide to get involved and there was still only three of them when they last counted. However, the uniforms offered a certain protection and public spectacle would ensure that word spread just that much faster.

In the end, they settled for eleven o'clock. Time for the party to be getting started.

Rusty strode into the bar and there was efficiency and authority pouring from him. Eduardo and Rick followed, staring down anyone who looked like they might want to argue with them. The uniforms had a magic effect. Silence and the crowd parted as Rusty walked right up to the door at the back and flashed a badge at the unfortunate guardian.

"Animal Control," Rusty barked. "Step aside."

"You can't...that's not..."

"Step aside, little man," Rusty suggested, staring up at a suit with an awful lot of muscle inside, "we've got a job to do."

The man still hesitated and then Rick stepped forward and brushed Rusty's arm.

"Rusty, do you want me to bring the van round the back?"

An unforgivable slip and Eduardo couldn't help the intake of breath.

Rusty's eyes were on Rick in a second. Cold and arrogant like the character he was playing. "Do that, Baker."

"Come on," Rick said to Eduardo. "Boss wants us to get the van in place."

It wasn't the plan. It very much wasn't the plan to walk away and leave Rusty facing a heavy _- _make that _two _heavies...Mr Muscle's friend had appeared. But Rick was looking at him and Eduardo couldn't think of a smooth way to take back the ground, not with the audience watching. He turned and followed Rick and headed for the door.

* * *

They moved the van to the back and waited what seemed to be an eternity though had probably only been a handful of minutes. Rick hadn't said a word and Eduardo hadn't dared to. He kept watching the back gate and thinking about Rusty inside the bar with unfriendly people. He was going to have to go back. His hand was on the door handle and then Rick spoke up.

"If you go back now, there's every chance that you'll blow it. We're supposed to be following orders. You'll do more harm than good."

Eduardo didn't care. Rusty was what mattered. The door was open and he was starting to get out of the van when the gate opened and Rusty beckoned them in. Eduardo climbed back in and let Rick drive the van into the back yard.

"Get these dogs into the cages as carefully as you can," Rusty instructed. "These gentlemen," he indicated the muscles, "will help you. I've explained that their assistance will be looked on favourably when this case goes to trial."

Rick started to open his mouth and Eduardo cut across him. "Sure thing, boss. Baker, you want to get the cages ready?"

* * *

Alisha had been as excited as Danny had seen her. The coin was a Gobrecht Dollar! It was rare! Numismatists would pay considerable sums to add it to their collection! This was such a find! Her eyes were shining with dollar signs and Danny didn't doubt that she had calculated her commission as somewhere between sizeable and handsome.

"That's wonderful news, Alisha," he murmured. "We should drink to finding something special."

He'd left her still warmed by the thoughts of how much money she was going to make and strolled into Maria's to find a packed bar. Maria was flat out behind the counter.

"You need help?" Danny called over.

"Can manage," came the reply followed by "Thanks".

He was debating arguing the point when he heard Rusty behind him.

"Coming through, coming through...Danny!"

Turning round, he saw Rusty struggling to carry a heavily pregnant Pit Bull. Without thinking, he cleared a path through the crowd for Rusty so that he could head towards the bar. Maria took one look and said, "Downstairs" and the pair of them disappeared out back.

* * *

"Rick and Ed are taking the other dogs to shelters. You need to get some bedding for this one," Rusty instructed and as Danny looked round Maria's basement flat, added, "and quickly!"

Danny found Maria's bedroom and grabbed the duvet and returned to the living area. He stretched it out on the floor and Rusty knelt down heavily and deposited the dog on top of it. Danny stared at the animal, straining and panting and-

"Oh, no," he muttered.

"Oh, yes," Rusty corrected, losing the overcoat and jacket and rolling up his sleeves. "Any time now."

* * *

The fifth puppy came out differently to the others. It wasn't as pink and it didn't make any noise and Rusty cut the cord with Maria's sharp kitchen scissors and passed it up to Danny. Danny had found towels to handle the new arrivals before putting them down beside their mother to be cleaned. The fifth puppy didn't look like it was going to be nuzzling up with its brother and sisters.

Danny held it gently in the towel and Rusty looked up at him.

"Dead, right? Pity." His attention was drawn back to the arrival of puppy number six.

Danny cleared away the birth sac and the mucus from the little pup's mouth and nose. It looked like it should be able to breathe. It looked perfect. His mouth set in a tight line. Giving up was never an option. He rubbed the puppy's tiny body gently with his thumbs.

"You doing CPR on a dog?" Rusty asked, watching him work.

Danny didn't answer. He was too busy willing the dog back to life.

"Danny..."

"You're not going to tell me to stop, are you?"

"No...no," Rusty said and Danny caught the look of quiet hope.

There was a tiny mewling noise and they grinned at each other delightedly.

* * *

Ten pups. Small and wriggling and demanding. Little blind mice who hadn't met the farmer's wife yet. Rusty crouched down and stroked the exhausted mother's head.

"Kids," he sympathised and then looked down at the bedding. "Guess we owe Maria a new duvet. We should probably get something fresh for these...well," he looked at the new mom again. "Later."

Danny leant back against the wall and watched with idle interest as the puppies started to scramble over each other to reach their mother's milk.

"How many times have you done that?"

"Including this time? I'd have to say..." Rusty considered the question. "This time."

"Huh." Danny mused for a moment on whether Rusty made everything look so easy.

"Oh, I think for someone who isn't that petfriendly, you did fine too."

There was a shared smile.

"I'll go get cleaned up," Rusty said and disappeared into the bathroom.

"It go OK tonight?" Danny called after him almost as an afterthought and there was a pause and then Rusty's voice floated out.

"We got the dogs. And word on the street will move quickly enough. Thinking Anton will have some fast talking to do."

"Good. C'mon, little fella," Danny encouraged as one of them slipped off the pile and off the duvet. He held it in his hands intending to place it back with the rest of the litter and then looked up, startled, as Rusty emerged, pulling down his cuffs and grabbed his jacket.

"Got to run," Rusty said.

"Oh, no! Oh, no, you don't!" Danny scrambled to his feet. "You can't leave me here with these guys!"

"Maria'll be down soon. I got to go."

"Rusty!"

"Don't sweat it. You're a natural."

"Rus-"

Danny found himself talking to air as Rusty disappeared up the steps and towards the back door that opened on to the alley.

"Fuck," Danny said with feeling.

The puppy he was holding started licking his fingers with its rough tongue.

"And you can stop that," Danny told it crossly.

* * *

A/N: yeah. Snuggly puppies. Maybe rainbows and ponies too. Doubt it, though. :)


	22. Misdirection

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: Danny and Rusty aren't mine.

Chapter Twenty-two: Misdirection

* * *

Maria called time eventually. It had been a busy night and she pushed the last of her customers through the door and threw the lock. She headed downstairs with the bulging till and stopped short.

Rusty and Danny had disappeared down to her flat with a dog, singular, some time ago. Now, the flat was minus one Rusty and up several puppies. Plus some bloody towels, a duvet she was not going to be using again in this lifetime and Danny, sitting on the floor, with a few stray puppies pressed close to his leg, looking up at her with a half-smile of apology and charm that would doubtless work on a million other women.

"Maria, I can explain…"

She put the till down on the table and looked at him hard. "Can you?"

Danny sighed and the smile slipped a fraction. "It's a little complicated," he admitted.

Maria looked again at the puppies. "No shit."

* * *

Practicality ran through Maria. In no time at all, a temporary enclosure of boxes surrounded the litter and there was a bowl of water with fresh towels and newspaper and the duvet had been removed and was now residing in the dumpster outside.

Danny was caught up in the whirlwind too and was slightly startled to find himself sitting opposite Maria with whisky poured against the background noise of little whimpers and snuffles.

"Let me guess," Maria said. "It was simple enough before Rusty got involved."

Danny laughed. "Don't think this one can be pinned on Rusty."

"Well, at least there were no explosions this time."

"Only a little boom in dog population."

He tilted his head on one side and looked over Maria's shoulder at the wall behind.

"Is that…?"

Maria followed his gaze and turned her head, then reached up and lifted down the photo and handed it to Danny.

Danny stared down at Maria with Rusty, both of them laughing and younger and at an older man, glancing at both of them with affection and another boy who looked like he'd never heard such a funny joke.

"You all look happy," he said softly.

"We were," she nodded. "Rusty's twentieth birthday."

"Saul and Mitch?"

"Yeah. About six months before…before." Maria took a drink and Danny kept a respectful silence.

"There was always this kind of glow from Rusty, you know," she said suddenly and then laughed. "That makes him sound like he's radioactive. Just…just this real enthusiasm. Like whatever start he'd had in life, he was going to make the most of what he'd got. He was going to spend his time doing what he was put on this planet to do. It was the first thing you understood when you got to know him. And he was always careful about that but now…" She took another drink. "Now, there's this _hardness_, this self-reliance…like he's determined not to let anyone close."

"Eduardo…" Danny began and Maria twisted up her face.

"Yeah, Eduardo." There was a note of something in there that Danny didn't understand. "It's not as if they…" She broke off and drank some more and then reached over and tapped the photo. "I wish you'd known _this_ Rusty."

Danny looked down again at blue eyes crinkling, at sun and untroubled and _young _and he remembered himself at a similar age, when life had been so full of possibility, when he'd thought he could do anything, when he hadn't come across anything to hold him back or deny him. Freedom. It had felt like freedom.

His eyes blurred a little and he gulped down some whisky and when he could look up again, when he'd pushed the sharp and painful reminder away, Maria was looking at him with a little curiosity – make that a _lot_ of curiosity. Danny held up the glass and smiled.

"Well, here's to knowing both of you now."

* * *

For once, Rick had had a restless night.

They'd loaded all the fighting dogs into the van including the prize bitch and they'd driven away. He'd waited and waited for Rusty to say something but Rusty didn't say a word except to ask him to drop back at Maria's.

As he'd pulled up outside, there was a howl from the back that rose up above the din of the barking and Rusty had turned his head sharply.

"That dog isn't going to last much longer," he said. "I'll take her into Maria's."

Rick had thought then that Eduardo might say something. When they were on their own. When Rusty wasn't there and they were driving off to animal shelters to unload the other dogs. But as if Rusty was still sat alongside them, Eduardo was silent. Kept his eyes on the road. And Rick was left alone in a rare place of uncertainty.

Back at Maria's, Rusty was nowhere to be seen. Danny had told them about the new arrivals downstairs and Rick had said that the dogs had been dropped off safely and that had been it. They'd all headed to bed.

This morning, he was up early and headed down for breakfast. Rusty was already there. Rick didn't break his stride and he didn't let the hesitation show on his face but Rusty on his own was what he'd been dreading.

He'd nodded brusquely at Rusty and sat down. Maria brought him coffee and cooked breakfast and he'd thanked her automatically and dived into the food. Better to be eating than talking. He felt Rusty's gaze on him and he looked up to see what he knew to be true. Blue eyes waiting.

"Alright. Get it over with," Rick growled.

Rusty obliged.

"You messed up last night."

Silence. And Rick waited for the rest but there was nothing.

"Yes," he admitted at last.

"It was either stupid or it was sabotage," Rusty told him. "Which?"

Words burned within him. About how he wanted to see that irritating façade ripped away, about how he wanted _Danny _to see that there was less than perfection wrapped up in that flash surface, about how he wanted Rusty to be caught out, to be…to be… Rick exhaled slowly and sat back in his chair.

"It was stupid," he acknowledged.

And Rusty's eyes told him he knew it was actually both.

"Don't get sloppy, Rick," Rusty said quietly. "Focus on the job, not me. There's no room for emotion in this."

Rick was silent.

"We understand one another?"

"This won't happen again," Rick promised.

Rusty gave him a thoughtful look and then nodded. "Good."

* * *

"We're in," Danny announced as he and Eduado sat down at the breakfast table. "Alisha's listing the coin in the auction programme and there's separate publicity pushing it with collectors. Short run up but it should generate sufficient interest."

"We could help that," Rusty suggested. "If we spread the word."

"I got some contacts in the media," Rick said. "They could work on building up some coverage."

"Excellent," Danny beamed.

"We're nearly set," Eduardo said wonderingly.

"We nearly are," Rusty agreed with a smile. "Can take some time out to sightsee if you want."

Maria delivered breakfasts and rested her hand on Danny's shoulder.

"I told Rusty they were all OK but you'll be glad to know that Grace slept well. Harpo, Chico and Groucho are trying their best to eat their way through the cardboard box. I've had to fish Zeppo out of the waterbowl twice. Bette and Joan are fighting. Rita, Raquel and Marilyn don't look like they want to stop feeding." The phone rang and she excused herself, adding as she went, "And Humphrey hasn't left his mother's side."

Rusty gave Danny an amused look. "You christened the dogs?"

Danny looked unabashed. "If you'd hung around, you could have helped. You don't like-"

"-oh, I like. Very classy. Humphrey…?"

"Tough little fellow. Rolls with the punches in life."

"Yeah. A survivor."

"I said to Danny they can stay put for a while. Till they're weaned. Might even keep one," Maria said, returning. "I could do with some company." She frowned. "Any of you want to help out tonight? That was Johnny phoning in sick again. Sick," she scoffed. "Moonlighting, more likely. He thinks I don't know. _I_ know."

"I've worked a bar before," Eduardo volunteered.

"Thanks," Maria smiled. "You're hired."

* * *

As they all stood up to leave, Danny caught Rusty's arm and pulled him to one side.

"I've got a way to get some of the information we're missing," he said. "But I need your help."

Rusty listened as he outlined the issue and smiled.

"Why me?" he asked.

Danny grinned. "Because you're not in the least bit surprised."

"You got that right. OK. Let's find a moment to ourselves."

* * *

The tutorial was less difficult to follow than Danny had thought it would be. And that was more to do with how straightforward Rusty made it look.

"Well?" Rusty asked and Danny nodded.

"Maybe I could run the auction," he said lightly.

"Think that might be running an auction before you can walk."

"True."

He saw Rusty hesitate.

_What?_

"You told Rick he's out yet?"

"No," Danny confessed. "Been waiting for the right moment. But I think he'll understand. He told me about last night."

He saw a flicker of confusion in Rusty's eyes and then it was gone.

"Right."

"You think he'll kick off?"

There was a pause. "No...no. If he explained about last night then I guess we're fine."

Danny started to frown but then Eduardo arrived with instructions from Maria to purchase dog food and puppy milk and the day took a different turn.

* * *

Eduardo was working the bar. Rick was in the bath. Danny had declared a sudden desire for chips and dip and had gone out for the same. All of which left Rusty free to disappear with more ease than usual.

He slipped down the stairs and nodded at Ed and then hit the streets, walking deeper into darkness and the hard side of town. It had taken him a couple of nights to track the play down. A couple of nights to earn a place at table. Now he was established.

The streets were empty and footsteps echoed. He turned his head once at an unexpected noise and then a cat miaowed and he shook himself. Paranoia. Time and a place for it.

Rusty knocked on the private club door and smiled as it opened.

* * *

As Rusty stepped inside, Danny stepped out of the shadows.

"Gotcha," he said with satisfaction.

* * *

It was the following night, and Rusty would admit to anyone that he was more than slightly bored. The stakes weren't high enough yet. The pot had been growing night on night but it was still not enough for what he wanted. And the opposition were still patchy. Tells were easily spotted. Bluffing was ridiculously simple. The pace was agonisingly slow.

He glanced round the room at the other tables. There was talent there, undoubtedly. He just hadn't found it yet. Hadn't come up against it. There was no challenge to be had.

Stretching, he got to his feet.

"Excuse me, gentlemen. Can you deal me out of this hand? I just need to use the facilities."

Standing at the urinal, he wondered whether this qualified as the longest hour of his life.

* * *

He walked back to the table and one of the men – Trent – looked up from mid-conversation.

"Oh, Rusty. Hope you don't mind, we got another player."

Another player sitting in his seat. Danny.

"This is Mr Ocean."

Danny smiled at him. _Twinkled_ up at him, damn it and Rusty was caught between irritation and amusement. He settled for rubbing a hand over his mouth and drawing up a chair opposite.

"Always nice to see a new player," he said. "The boys tell you what minimum entry is?"

The smile was firmly in place. "I got it covered."

_Huh._

Rusty suddenly grinned. "Then let's play."

* * *

When they walked out at four in the morning, they were part of the final eight. The prize money was considerable. The final game was that night.

They didn't say a thing to each other until they were well clear.

"Did I startle you?" Danny murmured.

"No." Firm and definite. He didn't do startled.

"You sure? You had the word "fuck" written right across your face."

Rusty glared at him and then shook his head and laughed.

"This a little bit of R and R?" Danny asked.

He hesitated and then shrugged.

"This is for Maria."

Danny raised an eyebrow in approval and then pursed his lips.

"She's going to accept a chunk of money?"

"I'm going to make her an offer she can't refuse."

"Well, that sounds intriguing, Marlon."

Rusty waited but Danny didn't press the point and they walked on for a while.

"Big stakes," Danny said eventually. "Where did you get your bankroll?"

Rusty shrugged again.

"Doug's money?" Danny asked with sudden intuition.

"Put a price on the Reverse Susan. Phoned through and he released the cash. He'll get it back," Rusty added. "Doesn't count if he gets it back, right?"

Danny smiled. "Doesn't count at all."

"What about you?" Rusty asked, curious.

"Phoned a friend."

"Pretty good friend." He hadn't been kidding about the minimum entry.

"Yeah, he is," Danny agreed softly. "I don't think he always knows how much I-"

He broke off and there was silence again.

"Sounds like he believes in you," Rusty offered.

"Yeah."

And the look of incomprehensible unhappiness that flashed across Danny's face was enough to still conversation completely.


	23. Disenchantment

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own Danny or Rusty. Do have a cold.

A/N: thanks to otherhawk for the pre-read and reassurance. As always.

Chapter Twenty-three: Disenchantment

* * *

Alisha was more than willing to meet Charles again before Larner's opened. She liked to demonstrate how much influence she commanded in her role. She wanted Charles impressed. As for the early start…well. It would be fine with Alisha if Charles wanted to see her earlier. Over breakfast, for instance. Over breakfast in bed, perhaps. Shame that he didn't seem to be taking the hint. Still, she lived in hope. Perhaps he was just a slow starter.

When she'd got in the previous night, Anton had rung again. She'd let it go to answer machine. Some garbled message about needing to see her. Needing her help. Life and death. She'd pulled a face when she'd heard it. Always on his terms. Well, those days were over. She had more interesting fish to fry.

Later, he'd actually come round. She'd left him alternately barking and begging on the intercom with more and more fury and then with pleas and then with quieter and quieter sobs. Alisha had run a bath.

Now, she was sat at her dealer's desk with Charles alongside and she was accessing the auction catalogue preview so that Charles could see how the Dollar was taking pride of place.

Henry, the security guard, had let them in and retired to his desk to study the morning papers. He obviously felt he'd made his point the last time Charles was in.

"And this catalogue goes out to all our patrons," Alisha explained and then blushed and looked at Charles who was resting his chin on his hands and smiling. "Are you even listening to me, Charles?"

"Oh, I am," Charles assured her. "Every word."

He sat up and forward and reached out and brushed a finger along the back of her hand and she shivered with delight at his touch.

"It's just…"

She held her breath at the ellipsis.

"…you think I could get a coffee?"

Alisha blinked and then that finger was at work again and she _ached_ for the caress. Oh, she would be such a good girl…or bad girl…whichever Charles wanted her to be if only-

"Skinny decaf?"

"Sure," she laughed.

She glanced over at Henry's desk where all that was visible was the top of the newspaper.

"I'll pop upstairs. We have a staff room." Alisha locked the screen. "Would you like a snack or something with it?"

"Hershey bar maybe? Or just surprise me?"

Alisha's grin was wicked. "Oh, I'd love to do that, Charles."

* * *

Danny waited till the elevator doors closed behind Alisha then, with a careful glance in Henry's direction, he shifted further round, entered Alisha's password and inserted the disk into the computer. He started copying files to disk and smiled to himself. He felt justified in adding technical to his CV.

* * *

"Here."

Rusty looked up in time to catch the disk Danny tossed at him.

"You on your own?" Danny asked as Rusty loaded it into the computer and ran through the names and addresses.

"Rick's out chatting up journos. Ed's got a list from Maria of puppy stuff." He paused. The list had been a little on the frivolous side. "I have a feeling Maria's always wanted pets. Ah! Here's the Canaletto. Address in Vermont."

"Vermont?"

"Yeah. Guy called Hemingford Grey."

Danny read the screen over his shoulder. "Town's not far away from..."

He stopped and Rusty looked at him, waiting for the end of the sentence. It was a long wait.

"Not far away from my home," Danny finished eventually. "We could use that as a base."

"You sure about that?" Rusty asked quietly.

Danny didn't seem too sure at all.

"Yeah. It'll be fine."

Teresa. It had to be. Probably she didn't approve of Danny bringing visitors back. Rusty turned his attention back to the screen and said nothing. He was thinking plenty.

* * *

Rick had spent the morning doing the rounds of journalists he knew. Phone and face to face. Names were provided, friends and acquaintances of contacts, introductions were furnished. By the time lunchtime came around, Rick had sown enough seeds of interest to guarantee press presence.

* * *

Rusty called in to see Alex ostensibly to ask about the upcoming auction.

"Are you coming, James?" Alex asked eagerly.

A little grin ran around Rusty's mouth. "You'll be the first to know."

As Alex's eyes widened a fraction, Rusty continued swiftly, "Anything I should watch out for?"

"There's a very valuable coin," Alex began and then stopped as they were approached by a man whose badge declared him to be Customer Service Manager and whose face and build suggested he would have walked into any bouncer or bodyguard role going. "Tony…?"

"Just wanted you to sign this off, Mr Taylor." Tony proffered the black padded book where shipment details were kept. Rusty's eyes gave it a glance of indifference.

Alex checked the pages and signed and then handed it back to Tony.

"I'll leave it up in your room as usual, Mr Taylor," Tony said with deference and stepped away.

"That looked important," Rusty murmured.

"Just paperwork," Alex smiled. "Because I'm in charge of inventory, I have to keep track of all the goods in and out. That's my master schedule. Tony updates it for me."

"Looks like he takes good care of it."

"It's either with me or with him or secure in my room. I'd be lost without it. Now. Where were we? Oh, the coin!"

And Alex led Rusty to the display cabinet with the box and Rusty made appreciative noises over Carter's precious Dollar as it nestled in velvet.

* * *

"Danny got the records," Rusty tipped his beer in salute towards Danny over the dinner table. "We can track the pieces Alisha's handled for the auction and Doug Quentin's Canaletto is in Vermont."

"Vermont?" Rick repeated. "That's-"

"Yeah," Danny cut in.

"That means-"

"Yeah. We can. We will."

"Right," Rick blinked a little at the speed of exchange.

Rusty was amused. "Right."

Eduardo opened his mouth and closed it again and then obviously decided what the hell. "Anyone want to…?"

"We're going to be staying with Danny when we go after the painting," Rusty supplied.

"That's great!" Eduardo beamed and Danny's smile only faltered for a half-second.

"Well, I got the press lined up. And I got a guy who's ready to cooperate. Also took a swing through Anton's neighbourhood. Word is some people are looking for him and he's nowhere to be found." Rick looked at Rusty. "What did you get up to today?"

"Went to check the display case," Rusty said.

"Alex show you?" Rick asked with a certain amount of inevitability.

"Alex showed me," Rusty said evenly. "I had his undivided attention. Well, up until a man the size of a small house brought that little black book of his along for signing."

"The book with goods in and out?" Danny checked and Rusty's heart leapt at the interest.

"That's right," he said quickly, keeping Danny's attention, not letting Rick interrupt. "It stays with Alex, with this guy, Tony or at the end of the day it's up in Alex's room."

"Huh." Danny looked like he was turning something over in his mind.

"Danny." Rick could obviously see it too and Danny started guiltily.

Rusty sighed to himself and dug into the stroganoff. So near and yet so far.

* * *

There was never any doubt that one of them was going to win the poker final. The only doubt was which of them. Rusty held his cards and Danny sat opposite with his hand and the connection there had been the previous night was stronger still. They found it disconcertingly easy to read each other without letting anything slip to the other players. Rusty _knew_ when Danny was bluffing. And there was simply no visible sign at all. Danny could tell when Rusty was setting up a jump raise and no one else appeared to realise.

They sliced through the opposition and when it was the two of them left, Danny threw in his hand. Rusty held his gaze and the wordless conversation they had been having all night grew louder.

_You sure about that?_

_Oh, yes._

_You want to take another look at that hand?_

_I know what you dealt me._

Rusty nodded slowly at him.

The four nines and the ace lay face down between them.

* * *

Danny was waiting two streets away as Rusty walked back, briefcase in hand.

"You didn't think of getting a cab? That's a lot of money."

"Figured you'd be waiting. Didn't want you to think I'd abandoned you."

"You are going to tell me what you're planning, right? Otherwise, it's like walking out of a movie. I will sulk if I don't get to know how the story ends."

Rusty grinned. "I doubt you can sulk worth a damn."

* * *

The next morning, Rusty walked out of the bedroom straightening his cuffs and looked over at Danny, reading the papers on the couch.

"Come on then," he said after a moment's consideration and obediently, Danny put the papers down and followed Rusty and the briefcase out to the bank.

"Here's your cut," Rusty said, handing over bundles of notes.

"There's more here than my original stake."

"Yeah. Don't bother arguing."

Danny paid the money back into Reuben's account and returned to Rusty's side as he finished repaying Doug's unwitting bankroll contribution.

"And the rest?" Danny nodded down at the remaining cash.

"I'd like to pay this into my account. Robert Charles Ryan. Here are the details."

"Certainly, Mr Ryan." The cashier took the cash card from him.

Danny leant up against the counter.

"Robert Charles? How did you get to be Rusty?"

The comment earned him a broad grin.

"Got left out in the rain. You're going to give me grief, with a name like Danny Ocean?"

"So the money's in your account and now…?"

"Now…now, we go and spend it."

* * *

Maria was at the back door taking delivery of stock when she saw Rusty and Danny heading towards her down the alley. Sunlight was filtering down and they were walking through it in step and casually and she could see the conversation floating from one of them to the other and back again. They looked…right somehow. Close and comfortable and carefree and Maria had the strangest feeling that she was looking at something deeper, something strong and powerful and…

"Sign, ma'am?"

The driver shoved the clipboard with the paperwork under her nose and she blinked and did so and then looked up again. The moment was gone and there was a frisson of lack and they were standing in front of her, looking very pleased with themselves.

"Alright," she said suspiciously. "Spill."

"We're going to be leaving in a couple of days and we wanted to...well, we wanted to," Danny explained as Rusty reached into his inner pocket and produced a sheaf of papers. He handed them to her and frowning, she took them.

"This a summons?" Maria scanned the paperwork and then her jaw dropped. "I can't…this for real?"

"Somewhere safe," Rusty told her. "Somewhere far away. Somewhere that's yours."

"I can't," she said again, shaking her head in disbelief. "This is…"

She stared at the deeds.

"It's on the coast near Sorrento," Rusty said. "It's near sapphire sea and rocky cliffs and…"

…and green lushness and bright sun and old stone streets and mossy steps and cool breeze and where Poppa came from, where she'd spent a handful of summers with Nonna when she was younger and Rusty had remembered, stories from way back and Rusty had…

Maria blinked back tears and tried to say again that this was too much, this was way too much and she couldn't accept and…

"Yours," Rusty said firmly and Danny smiled and Maria was looking at them both and by now their outlines were so blurry and she couldn't tell where Rusty ended and Danny began…

A handkerchief appeared and she swallowed hard and muttered a "Thank you" that covered absolutely everything and disappeared into the handkerchief and back into the bar.

* * *

Charles had wined and dined her yet again. They'd met at his apartment and then gone on to a fabulous restaurant and she'd insisted on dragging him up to the little dancefloor. He'd told her he had two left feet but she'd laughed and held him and let herself be held and had melted into his arms and lost herself in dreams.

And then, back at the table over coffee and cocktails, Charles had wondered whether she might like to help him spend the money after the auction. Possibly, they could take in a trip to Paris…?

"Not Paris, Texas," he smiled.

"Oh, _Charles!_" Delighted and stunned.

"Let's hope it reaches the figures you say," Charles said. "Strange. So much money in such a little bit of metal…Can I look at it up close one last time?" he murmured. "Tomorrow morning, say? When it's just the two of us?"

"Of course," she agreed and in her head that request was nothing. Asking her to go with him to France… She danced on air for the rest of the night.

* * *

The following morning, Larner's was quiet and still and Charles stood by the unlocked display case, Alisha at his side, and held the Gobrecht Dollar reverently in his fingertips.

"Amazing," he said softly. "Such a-"

There was a loud banging at the front door and Alisha span round. A curly haired man was thumping on the glass, demanding to know when the place opened and Henry was there, shouting back at him.

"Someone's keen," Charles said and she turned back to him, still holding the piece of silver and she smiled.

"You thought anymore about France?" Charles asked as she locked the coin back up and the smile grew wider.

She hadn't been thinking of anything else.

* * *

_Well?_ Rusty's eyebrow was asking as he walked back through the door.

Danny held up the real deal and Rusty grinned and then frowned.

"You know I got the strangest feeling we're missing something. Some angle…" He looked at Danny. "You feel like that at all?"

Danny considered.

"No," he said honestly and Rusty nodded, looking a little reassured.

"OK. Well, later on I'll call in and check that the fake's holding up."

If its cover wasn't blown by the end of the day, they could be confident about tomorrow.

* * *

_**SomeTime...SomeWhere...**_

She tore open the skin of time and looked again at the golden threads and they were so close now, so close and getting closer, as close as they could get without actually touching and she knew she should be happy about that. That was what she wanted.

There was no movement, no disturbance but the other appeared at her shoulder and looked at the threads and then at her face.

"Something's going to happen," she said. She could feel it. Rippling away along timelines and realities. Like a wave of inevitability bearing down on a vulnerable shore.

The other nodded agreement. "Several things, actually. This is just the start."

And he held up his hands and pulled them apart and there was cloud and then clarity and she saw the beginning and her shoulders sagged just a little.

"Things can change," she said stubbornly.

"Not this," he murmured. "It's too close."

* * *

It was later and Rusty was at Larner's, when back in the flat above Maria's and out of nowhere, Danny realised the angle they were missing.

"The Canaletto," Danny said suddenly.

Rick and Eduardo looked at each other.

"We need to make sure that address is for real. If they're moving illegal goods around, they're likely to have a double accounting system and the only destination addresses we can trust are in that book of Alex's."

"Rusty said it's very closely guarded."

"We going to break into Larner's? Again?" Rick asked, his voice full of lack of enthusiasm.

"Larner's?" Maria repeated coming through the door with dinner. She made a derogatory noise and Danny looked at her.

"You know them?"

"That's one of the places where Johnny moonlights. He thinks I don't know. He's stupid enough to give this place as one of his contact phone numbers. Tony from there rings up every now and then. He rang up this afternoon looking for help for some big function there. I beat Johnny to the phone and told him he'd have to look elsewhere for hired help."

Danny swung round in his chair. "Johnny's downstairs, right?"

"Sure. Sulking. Tony pays twice as much as I do."

"C'mon."

The three of them looked at each other, shrugged and followed him downstairs to where the bar was starting to fill up with early evening drinkers.

"What we need," Danny said in a low voice to Rick and Eduardo, "is an inside man. Someone to slip into Alex's room and pick up that book and have a look inside. Verify the address. Don't need to take the book away, just need to sneak a peek."

"What about Alex?" Eduardo asked.

"He needs to be occupied," Danny agreed. "But if there's a party going on, then that should do the trick."

There was a pause while Maria fetched her bartender over.

"Johnny!" Danny grinned at him. "Like to talk to you about Larner's."

Johnny looked at Maria who gave a curt nod of her head.

"Get asked to help out there sometimes," Johnny said eventually. "Bit of barwork. They have visitors they like to impress. Waiters walking round with tiny bits of food on trays. That kind of thing. They give you a uniform to wear and they pay really well..." He looked at Maria and sighed. "Look, Tony knows I can't do tonight." He sighed again. "He sounded really desperate."

"You think if you call Tony back and say you're available and you've got someone to help you-" Danny asked.

"-he'd say yes," Johnny said definitely. He brightened. "Does that mean I can go?"

Maria stared at Danny.

"You want me to let him go?"

"Yeah."

"And the someone who's going with him…?"

Danny glanced at Eduardo. "You up for it, kid?"

"I can do it," Eduardo said immediately.

Danny grinned. "I'll come with you." He turned to Johnny. "Just give us a few minutes to get ready." Disguise, he thought. Even though no one ever looked at serving staff. He glanced at Maria. "I'm sorry, Maria. But Rick could help out if…"

He looked round suddenly. Rick was nowhere in sight.

* * *

Larner's was closing and Rusty watched with satisfaction as the last few customers walked away. The fake coin had passed without challenge. Alex appeared at his shoulder.

"There's a reception here later, James. Some important visitors. I'd…I'd be thrilled if you could come. Or maybe a drink? At the little bar? Or maybe a drink first? Or after?-"

There was increasing desperation and gabble and Rusty cut through it.

"Sounds great, Alex, but I have an early start. I don't think I'd better have a late night. I leave town tomorrow."

"Oh." Quiet and disappointed and regretful. "Well, I understand. Completely. I just hoped…I hoped you'd be around for the auction."

"Yes, I hoped so too. Next time I'm in New York…"

"Sure."

And Alex did a terrific job of looking stoic and dismayed all at the same time.

* * *

Rusty stepped out of Larner's and exhaled slowly then walked up the street, his mind already working on the auction and the pace and what he was going to-

He stopped dead. Rick was right in front of him radiating barely controlled consternation.

"What the-"

Rick pushed him through the doors of the little bar and away from the door and on to a barstool.

"What is it?" Rusty hissed. "Alex is heading here and I've just told him I can't stay for a drink or for dinner or for-"

"The Canaletto. Danny figured it out. We can't be sure the address on the system – the official destination – is correct. We need to get a look at that little black book of Alex's."

"Well, it's got to be tonight. After tomorrow, the security's going to be sky high."

"I agree," Rick said and hesitated for a moment then looked him squarely in the eyes. "Danny said we need an inside man. Someone who could slip into Alex's room. Someone who could get access to that book. Not steal it. Just look inside it. He said…Alex would need to be occupied…"

He left the sentence hanging and didn't say another word. Rusty continued to stare at him. He looked for the truth in what Rick was saying and it was there. Danny had said…Danny had suggested…Danny wanted him to…

"_Can't you just do what you did with Alex and flutter your eyelashes at them?"_

He'd thought Danny was joking when he'd said that. It had felt like a joke. Danny hadn't seemed to be quite so ruthless, except…he'd known about Rick playing fast and loose with Rusty's safety when they'd snatched the dogs. And the end result was what had seemed to matter more than how you got there.

"_You think there's another agenda going on? I am not conning you." _

"Not much," Rusty said softly and then over Rick's shoulder, he saw Alex walk in.

Dimly, he was aware of Rick turning his head and then beckoning over the man behind the bar, leaning across, speaking in a low voice and passing over cash.

Danny. Danny. Oh, he'd been a fool. He'd been so very foolish. And really, really, what did it matter? What the hell did it matter? It had stopped mattering a long time ago. The first time, in fact. Use what you got. However you needed to. Wasn't like it was his first time. Wasn't like he'd never…

Danny.

Why did he feel so fucking let down?

"James…?"

Rusty looked up. Rick had melted away and Alex was stood in his place, his face alive with giddy excitement, a bottle of champagne in his hand.

"You sent over champagne?" Alex laughed delightedly.

There was a beat and then Rusty smiled. Sharp and dazzling and breathstoppingly bright.

"You looked like you might enjoy bubbles."

"You changed your mind," Alex breathed and there was so much hope in those four words.

"Wanted to make my last night memorable," Rusty told him and Alex's face lit up.

* * *

Johnny was leading Eduardo and Danny firmly towards a side entrance of Larner's.

"They got an express elevator from street level. You buzz Tony and he sends it down and it takes you all the way up to the living quarters."

"Rick?" Danny said, startled.

Rick was sat on a bench on the sidewalk and he got up as he heard his name.

"Where did you get to?" Eduardo asked curiously.

"I came to find Rusty. To tell him you'd figured out the problem. To tell him too that you had a solution."

Danny frowned at him. There was something in Rick's voice…

"He found his own solution, Danny." Rick looked over Danny's shoulder and nodded. "See?"

Danny followed his gaze and he heard Eduardo's sharp intake of breath and he heard Rick's "Sorry, kid" and he was looking at Rusty walking back towards Larner's with Alex. Walking very close to Alex. Alex's hands pulling Rusty to a halt under a streetlight. Alex leaning in. And a kiss. Long and slow and passionate.

"Fucking fags!" Johnny said with surprise.

"It's alright, Johnny," Danny heard himself saying. "We won't be coming with you. You head up to Tony on your own."

As Johnny disappeared, Danny's eyes stayed glued to Rusty and Alex and mouths locking together and hands in hair and bodies pressed against each other and he wondered why he felt so fucking betrayed.

Alex and Rusty moved on slowly towards Larner's and out of sight and Danny blinked a couple of times and then turned his head and saw Eduardo, pale-faced and miserable and Rick, with a grim "I told you so" all over his face.

"He's just a fucking whore, Danny. That's all there is to him."

Eduardo made a small sound and was gone and Danny was left staring at Rick who was nodding slowly.

* * *

Rick watched the raw misery blossom on Eduardo's face and the disbelief and shock lock on Danny's and he didn't feel guilty at all. He'd been wrong to try and set Rusty up when they'd stolen the dogs and right when he'd told Rusty it wouldn't happen again. Wrong because it hadn't been necessary. All he'd needed to do was to let Rusty show his true colours. This was not his doing. This was what fucking whores did.

* * *

They stepped into the elevator and they kissed again, fast and hard, before Alex broke away and straightened his tie.

"Visitors," he said by way of explanation and then the doors opened and they stepped out on to a corridor where Tony greeted them.

"Mr Fitzwilliam has arrived, Mr Taylor. Mr Constantine was looking for you. He's in the main room."

Wordlessly, Alex led James towards the boardroom. Double doors thrown open and a bar set up at the back and the central mahogany table clothed in white linen and covered in buffet food. Waiting staff were milling round replenishing drinks and offering trays of food. There were several people already there. Mr Fitzwilliam had suggested a regional meeting and no one said no to Mr Fitzwilliam.

"Wait here, James," Alex murmured and he stepped forward trying to find Constantine without being seen himself.

"Mr Taylor?"

It was Davey. One of their men who aspired to be Tony and who fell a long way short in nearly every respect.

"Davey." Alex smiled at the shorter man. "Can you find my brother for- never mind."

Constantine was striding towards him and he stepped back out into the corridor. Constantine followed.

"Where did you get to?" Constantine asked. "Everyone's…"

Constantine tailed off and Alex saw him looking at the handsome blond leaning up against the wall.

"Would I be missed?" Alex asked softly.

His brother looked at him and grinned. "Am I looking at your plans for the evening?"

A hint of blush ran through Alex's cheeks.

"You and your plans run along," Constantine said magnanimously. "I'll tell them you had something come up."

The blush deepened.

* * *

Alex punched in the key code to access his suite and opened the door.

"Wow," Rusty said with appreciation in his voice at the view over the city.

"Yeah," Alex agreed and Rusty smiled when he saw that Alex was looking at him.

As Alex shut the door, Rusty moved further into the darkened room that was lit by the citylight. There was a large bed and on the table beside it lay the book. Rusty studied it for a moment and then closed his eyes. He felt Alex run a gentle hand through the back of his hair and James turned round and opened his eyes.

It was James who folded himself into Alex's arms.

It was James who allowed Alex's tongue to explore his mouth.

It was James who stripped for Alex, smiling as he did so and then pulled Alex's clothes from him.

It was James who pushed Alex down on the bed and who whispered what he liked and who kissed and nuzzled and sucked and licked his way down Alex's body.

It was James who lay face down and who lifted his hips up and back and who let Alex, gentle and considerate, prepare him and enter him.

It was James who heard the little pants of breath and who felt the thrusts inside him grow more and more abandoned until there was a cry of release followed by collapse and clumsy kisses on his shoulders.

It was James who turned over and who smiled up at Alex and who watched Alex strip off the condom and head to the bathroom and run a shower.

It was Rusty who slipped out of bed and scanned the contents of the inventory book, quickly and intently, locking all the information away.

It was James who smiled hazily up at Alex as he came back to the bed.

It was Rusty who lay in Alex's sleepy embrace and studied the ceiling and thought about the end justifying the means.


	24. Lines Crossed aka Chapter17ThatIsn’t

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: borrowing from the wonderful library.

A/N: on the whole, sorry, I think.

Chapter Twenty-four: Lines Crossed aka Chapter17ThatIsn't

* * *

On his twenty-first birthday, Rusty stared at his reflection and wondered briefly what was left of the person Saul had known. The eyes that looked back at him were hard and empty and sitting behind them was the focus and intent that hadn't left him since the room above Fat Joe's months ago. Killer's eyes, ruthless, implacable and not to be argued with. Not that he'd actually had to kill. Yet.

The look had opened doors, unlocked lips, found him the people that knew the people that he needed to find. Along the way, there had been the occasional person who hadn't known what they were seeing and Rusty had had to make his point felt, to make sure that people understood he was in earnest. They'd been left in no doubt the other side.

Rusty could handle himself. He was quick and fast with good balance and focus and precision lent an unexpected weight to his punch. Rusty could use a knife. Mitch had taught him long ago and far away about concealment and surprise and the sudden. Rusty knew what to do with a gun. He'd taught himself as soon as he could after Fat Joe's. Practice and practice and practice. The secret to any skill. Over and over till he could feel the right balance in his hand, till he knew how to aim and fire and hit. And soon, he promised himself as lay in bed with the gun beside him, soon he wouldn't be claiming perfect scores on a firing range. Soon, the bullets would be burying themselves into real and deserved targets.

Willoughby. Willoughby and his men. Their faces were burned into his memory alongside Mitch, with the deathmoment of shocked horror, alongside Saul, souldistraught and anguished. When he closed his eyes he saw them. He saw them all.

* * *

Darkness lifting.

And then the flood of physical pain.

And then the rush of mental agony and he'd let out a long, low moan.

Then there was the sound of a door opening and soft swearing and slow, heavy footsteps waddled across the room. Fat Joe blinked down at him and Rusty stared up at him with raw grief, ripped open, as vulnerable as anyone had ever seen him.

Incoherent emotion clogged up the words Rusty was trying to form. His mouth opened and closed and nothing came out. Fat Joe swore some more and then pulled Rusty's jacket open and reached down and fingers poked-

Pain. Overriding pain. Rusty screamed and passed out again.

* * *

He came to in pain and in a bed. Fat Joe was sitting in a chair and watching him.

"You're lucky," Fat Joe wheezed. He held up the bag of jewels that had been in Rusty's inside jacket. "Deflected the bullet."

Rusty heard the words: the words meant nothing. _Saul. Mitch. Willoughby. _Still Fat Joe was talking.

"Need to do something about the bullets." Fat Joe nodded at him. "I called someone." There was a beat and then again, "I called someone."

There was some meaning Rusty wasn't getting and although it was the hardest thing in the world, he made himself think and focus. Fat Joe was no one close. Fat Joe looked after himself. Fat Joe was not about acting out of the goodness of his heart.

"Keep the jewels," Rusty said and his voice was faint and croaky.

The jewels disappeared.

Fat Joe went on as if that particular conversation had never happened. "Need to do something about the body."

The body. _Mitch! _Wretched despair washed over him and he blinked back tears.

Fat Joe cleared his throat and Rusty thought if he mentioned the word "body" again, he might start screaming again.

"Carter," he choked. "Call Carter."

* * *

A taciturn man with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth had appeared carrying a black bag of silver instruments, a bottle of whisky and two glasses.

"One of those for me?" Rusty managed through alternate waves of numbness and fire.

There was a snort and then the whisky was poured. Instruments were dropped into one. The other was drunk and the cigarette stubbed out in the glass.

"Let's get started."

* * *

Words filtered through oblivion.

"No, Scott, I just got here. Christ, what a mess. Mitch is dead and Rusty's shot up… No, no. Nothing I can think of. Maybe something private… Spoke to Fat Joe. He didn't recognise them but he said they meant business…honestly?" A heavy sigh and then came the grief-laden verdict. "Saul's gone."

Loss sharded through him and he slipped away to blackness.

* * *

When he opened his eyes again to dull ache and unfamiliar weakness, Carter was sat in the chair.

"Hey," Carter said softly. "How are you doing?"

Rusty licked his lips and swallowed. "How'd you think?"

There was a flash of pain across Carter's face and then nothing but warm concern.

"You need to rest. You can't move yet – give it a day or so. When you're up to it, you come back to Detroit with me to heal."

Rusty started to laugh and the laughter became sobs and Carter was straight across to his bedside.

"It's OK, son. You're going to be OK." Carter was speaking quickly and soothingly and his hands were on Rusty's hands, reassuring and comforting and Rusty didn't feel any of the reassurance or the comfort. "I'm arranging for Mitch to be taken back home and buried. I'll find somewhere peaceful, somewhere calm-"

"Saul," Rusty breathed and Carter grimaced.

"Fat Joe saw him bundled out of the door. He didn't know the who."

Carter reached into his jacket and pulled out the bag of jewels.

"I figure these belong to the who."

"Actually, they belong to Fat Joe," Rusty murmured.

"Who?" Carter asked. "Who, Rusty?"

Saul's face floated in front of his eyes. And he could see the vicious determination in Willoughby's expression that spoke of final and painful and the intent was there and he remembered the overheard conversation.

"You think he's still alive?" Rusty whispered.

Carter sighed. "There's always hope."

"You think he's still alive?" Rusty repeated, his voice stronger and demanding the truth.

Carter was silent for a moment then said, "Fat Joe saw them leave."

He dropped his gaze and then lifted his eyes to meet Rusty's and Rusty could see the pain he felt mirrored and the answer to his question. He already knew the answer. If Saul could, he would have come back to Fat Joe's. And if Saul couldn't… Well. There _was_ always hope and Rusty hoped it had been quick.

"Who, Rusty?" Carter asked again, gently.

Rusty's brain was working overtime. Saul had been Carter's friend. Carter would look after him because of Saul. Carter would protect him and keep him from danger and harm. Carter would not let him go after Willoughby. Carter would go after him himself. Carter would deny him.

He was saved from answering by the weakness washing over him again and he couldn't keep the exhaustion from showing if he tried.

"Sleep," Carter said at once and there was a hint of guilt in there at having pushed him.

Obediently, Rusty closed his eyes. Sleep was the last thing he was going to do.

* * *

Before Carter was expecting and of course, before he should have done, he slipped out of bed and dressed and out of Fat Joe's and disappeared and hid himself so that Carter couldn't find him.

What followed was a clear-cut blur of time and objective and preparation and questions. Because things would have been so much easier if Willoughby hadn't dropped completely out of sight.

So many questions. And now, he had found the end of the trail. Tomasino Reiss. He'd worked his way through so many acquaintances, he'd sorted through rumours and whispers and he was certain he'd found the man. Tomasino Reiss. The man who knew the whereabouts of Willoughby.

Reiss's place was on the West coast. Security was visible but laidback. No one thought of taking on Tommy Reiss. He was the spider at the centre of a local but large web. He knew things.

By luck and other means, Rusty found himself in front of the hotel suite where Tommy was based. Someone large and immovable stood between him and the man with the answer.

Rusty invested his voice with ultimate charm.

"I'm here to see Mr Reiss, please."

"Mr Reiss is in conference," came the answering rumble.

"It's been a long journey."

Dead eyes told him it mattered not a jot.

Rusty drew on the weeks of searching, the driving need to reach his goal and his eyes were ice and unblinking.

"He will want to see me," he said simply.

There was enough in there to suggest that Rusty might be right. The fish eyes wavered and studied him again.

"Name."

"Ryan."

"Stay here."

Fish Eyes knocked and stepped through the door and there was the murmur of polite interruption and slight irritation and Rusty was never going to take no for an answer. He strode into the room and there was a card table set up with beers and there were two men. One was dark-haired and in his forties, powerfully built with a hard face and dark eyes that flashed annoyance in Rusty's direction followed by a double take and a slow, appreciative smile.

"You been holding out on me, Tommy?"

Rusty dismissed the man and turned his attention to the other. Short black hair, unshaven, running to paunch. Eyes that were sharp and watchful and curious.

"Mr Reiss, I need to speak with you. Please forgive the intrusion."

He was humble, he kept his head low and he felt Reiss's eyes move over him again. The other man's eyes were raking over him too.

Fish Eyes made to move Rusty back out of the room but Reiss stopped him by raising a hand and looked thoughtfully at Rusty.

"It's OK, Ox. You can go." Fish Eyes disappeared. "You must want to see me really badly, Mr…Ryan, is it? To risk the wrath of Ox."

The voice was soft and intelligent and curiosity was there again. Rusty was silent and there was a decision being made.

"Alright, Mr Ryan, I'll hear you out." He turned to the other man. "My apologies. It appears I have a prior engagement."

There was a deep chuckle.

"Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. Blowing me out." The dark eyes were on Rusty again. "Can't say I blame you."

The visitor stood up and gathered money off the table.

"Next time I'm in town," he said and Reiss nodded.

The man walked with a confident swagger across the room and paused when he got to Rusty, standing close, within Rusty's personal space, his face in Rusty's face and he was a couple of inches taller and Rusty had to look up to meet the gaze.

"You think you might need to speak to _me_ afterwards?"

The eyes were speculative and predatory and Rusty set his teeth. He held the gaze with disdain and the man laughed and glanced back at Reiss.

"Have fun, Tommy."

* * *

The door shut behind the man and Reiss smiled.

"You'll have to forgive him. He has certain predilections and you…" Reiss broke off and shrugged.

"I'm sorry to have interrupted your evening-"

"Just a casual call. He looks me up when he's in the area. Come and sit down," Reiss invited and Rusty slid into the recently vacated chair. "So what's this burning need to talk to me?"

"Mr Reiss, I'm looking for someone. I understand that you know where he is."

"Tommy," Reiss corrected. "You can call me Tommy."

"Tommy…" Rusty repeated and it sounded familiar and reverential all at the same time.

"And you are…?"

Names. Real names. And Reiss had to know that he already knew his name. Reiss was giving away nothing. Rusty swallowed.

"Rob," he said and it wasn't a lie but it still protected him.

"OK, Rob." Reiss picked up the cards and shuffled. "Well, it sounds to me like you want to ask me a question, am I right?"

There was a sudden smile from Reiss and there were far too many teeth on show. Rusty nodded.

"Tell you what. Humour me a little. Stay and play cards. Drink with me, eat with me, talk with me. After a while, I'll let you know if you've earned the right to ask the question."

His words were measured, his eyes were amused and Rusty stared at him for a long moment. He wasn't stupid enough to think about using the gun. He'd expected a price. He'd brought a bag of diamonds that weighed heavy in his pocket. He'd thought of favours owed. Rusty knew how the code worked. But keeping the man company?

"Alright," he said. He nodded at the cards in Reiss's hand. "What's the game?"

Reiss's mouth curved.

* * *

They'd played hand after hand of different games. Reiss had summoned Ox for chillies and oysters and whisky and Rusty had swallowed down the lot, keeping pace with Reiss. His glass was filled and refilled and the conversation roamed all over the place. Reiss fired topics at him that were complete non-sequiturs – the Oscars, Watergate, natural history, aeroplane crashes, baseball, European volcanoes, math problems, David Copperfield stunts… Rusty fought to keep on top of the flow of words and the cards dealt and the spirits drunk. He had no idea what Reiss was trying to discover and that bothered him. Every now and then, Rusty tried to bring the discussion round to why he was there but Reiss wouldn't have it.

"Later," he grinned. "Later."

* * *

And now it was late night - early morning? Surely, early morning - and Rusty was wondering when later might be exactly.

"OK, Rob."

Amusement. So much amusement. He blinked across the table at Reiss.

"You're intriguing," Reiss said, elbows on the table. "Stupidly brave – that much is obvious. But not so stupid as to pull that gun out of your pocket. And it would be extremely stupid," Reiss warned. "You're clever with cards. You can hold your drink well. You've eaten chillies before and you've never had oysters but you took them both on without a second thought. You don't care for politics or current affairs or anything that might constitute a traditional education. You know movies, you know angles and you have successfully engaged my interest for well over five hours. Congratulations. I'd say you earned your right to ask your question."

Rusty didn't need to be told twice.

"Brent Willoughby. Can you tell me where he is?"

"Willoughby?" There was a flicker of something in Reiss's eyes and then there was a broad smile. "Yes, I can."

Rusty waited. And waited. And Reiss said nothing.

"Where?" Rusty said eventually and he tried to keep the frustration and the need out of his voice but it had been such a hard journey and he was so _close…_

Reiss studied his face.

"You're going to kill this man, I think."

Rusty didn't deny it and Reiss shrugged.

"Well, that's not my business. I do know where Willoughby is. And I will let you earn the right to the answer."

Heartweary, Rusty stared at him in disbelief. He'd come so far. He'd done so much. There had been people and places that he never wanted to see again, things he'd done and done his best to try and pretend he hadn't. Violence had never been his first option for getting what he wanted but when he'd finished with charm and cajolery and cash, when threats hadn't been taken seriously, then he'd had to act. Had to. And he hadn't wanted to think about the fact that every time it got a little bit easier.

And now...now...he'd played the game. Done what he'd been told. He'd jumped through the ridiculous hoops and still, still... The man with the laughter in his eyes and the smile that was too full of teeth leaned back in his chair and waited.

"What do you want?" Rusty asked finally.

"Let me fuck you, Rob."

"What?" Rusty blinked at him, not sure he'd heard right.

"Let me fuck you." Every word was enunciated. "And then I'll tell you where Willoughby is."

There were no words. There was nothing. There was only white noise.

"I don't care for whatever you brought me as a bribe. There are no professional favours you can do me." Reiss smiled again. "I want to know how badly you want this information."

And before Rusty's hand could even move, Reiss added, "Extremely stupid, remember?"

Rusty remained silent and Reiss cocked his head on one side.

"Oh, come on. You're a good-looking boy. You can't tell me this is the first time you've been...propositioned?"

It wasn't. Back in the days of hunger and dirt and survival, there had been...incidents...where he'd walked down a wrong alley and found danger. And most times when he'd punched and run, he was fast enough and determined enough to get away. A couple of times...a couple of times there had been no immediate escape.

_...trapped against a wall and the man was bigger and stronger and insisting that Rusty was a girl called Paula and the hands gripping his arms were fierce and tight and the man wouldn't listen and he was alternately begging forgiveness and forcing his mouth on his and Rusty couldn't stop him..._

_...his cheek was bleeding and his head was ringing where it had hit the wall and he was down on his knees now which was where they wanted him and they were all three of them drunk but they were between him and freedom and he couldn't find a way through them however hard he tried._

_"You gonna hold still now, boy," one of them mumbled and there were hands on his shoulders and he couldn't get up and the man was in front of him and they were forcing his mouth open and..._

_Warm liquid. Laughter. _

_"You're not supposed to piss on him!"..._

And nothing had happened. Nothing _worse_ had happened. There'd eventually been the opportunity - when the man had sank to the ground weeping over Paula, when the others had dissolved into laughter and loosened their grip - and he'd managed to seize the moment and pull free and run. But this...

"Well?" Reiss asked and the teeth were on show and the dark eyes were bright. "How badly do you want it?"

* * *

Turned out he wanted it badly enough.

He followed Reiss into the master bedroom and he'd silently undressed and stood naked in front of Reiss and saw thoughtful eyes study the still-new scars from the bullet wounds in his shoulder and side. And then Reiss had stripped, paunchy and _interested_ and with hair running thick over his chest and arms and belly, and reached into a drawer and pulled out a tube of something slippery.

"I never take what's not freely offered," Reiss told him as he lubed himself up. "The man who was here earlier...he wouldn't ask as nicely as I have. You are sure about this?"

Reiss knew the answer to the question before he asked it. That was the entire point of the question. Still, Rusty had to check.

"You know Willoughby-"

"Late thirties, brown hair, brown eyes, birthmark on the side of his neck, makes his money from running girls and rackets," Reiss rattled off. "Yes, I know him."

He knew him alright. And that left only one answer.

Awkwardly, Rusty lay down on the bed, his chin resting on his hands, waiting and refusing to think about what Saul would say, the look on Saul's face... There had been so many times over these past months when he'd pushed the thoughts of Saul away. He knew what Saul would and wouldn't approve of and this would make Saul weep. This was going to be hell-

"Over," Reiss said. "I want to see your face."

Hell, indeed.

* * *

Silence.

_Saul. Mitch. Willoughby. _

A sharp hiss of virgin pain.

Noiselessly, he made the bargain.

* * *

Reiss had finished. As the older man climbed off him, Rusty slowly uncurled his fingers from his palms and sat up, straightening out his legs, denying the trembling in his thighs. As hard as he tried, he couldn't ignore the soreness inside him and the blood, bright on the sheets and stinging in his mouth.

"Get dressed, Rob." Reiss was all business. "And I'll take you to Willoughby."

* * *

Water. Wild and fierce and free. Lashing up against rocks and keeping its secrets buried deep within itself. Rusty stood and stared down at it as Reiss leaned up against the railings beside him.

"Way I understand it," Reiss began conversationally, "is that Willoughby screwed up. Did something the wrong side of foolish and found out that there were consequences to be had."

His eyes were on Rusty.

"I heard he shot a few people and then found out they had powerful friends. Friends who might take his actions amiss."

Silence.

"Anyway," Reiss continued. "He decided to move operations. He came here with a couple of his men. Talked to me at length about the value of us working together. When I refused to be impressed, he set up on his own."

The waves crashed into the rocks. Over and over and over.

"I made sure it was the last decision he made."

Silence. And the emptiness inside grew impossibly more. He'd given everything. For nothing. The chance for revenge had been snatched from him.

Reiss's voice was faraway. "You know you can ask me another question any time you like."

Rusty gradually realised that Reiss's eyes were on him still. That Reiss was waiting for anger or tears or some kind of reaction. He would never give him the satisfaction. Besides which, there was nothing but deadness now. Saul gone, Mitch gone and Willoughby, his driving purpose for the past however many months, at the bottom of the ocean.

Rusty pulled the gun from his pocket and hurled it into the water. Then he turned and looked at Reiss and laughed. None so free as the dead.

* * *

Life after death and Rusty couldn't remember much about it. He didn't concentrate on the actualities: he focused on the feelings. The reckless and the careless. One job to the next. Living from danger to danger and not caring for consequence. Burying himself in whisky and hiding from the past.

Eventually, he came to himself, staring at unshaven chaos in a hotel room in Tallahassee. He had choices to make.

The first choice was location. Europe contained no memories and he set up a restless base there where languages came as easily as success at the con.

The second choice was simple. No one was ever going to get into the inner circle of confidence again.

And the third choice was already made for him. He had himself to rely on. And if he had to, that meant using what he'd got. After all, it didn't matter.

* * *

"You going?" Alex asked sleepily as Rusty finished dressing.

"Wasn't kidding about the early start," he smiled.

"OK. You know your way back to the elevator we came up in?"

"Yeah."

"It's always manned. Same as the main bank. Tony'll be there most likely, he'll see you down."

"OK."

"James…" Alex hesitated and Rusty saw a kaleidoscope of emotions in his eyes.

He leant over the bed and kissed Alex briefly.

"It was amazing," James whispered and Rusty slipped out of the room.

* * *

Maria's bar was busy when he got back. Rusty caught her eye and nodded and then headed up the stairs and opened the door to the flat.

There was no sign of Ed. The TV was on and Rick was sprawled on the couch, asleep. Danny was sat in the easy chair and Rusty clamped down hard on all the pointless thoughts of double standards: Danny might not climb into bed with a mark but he was apparently happy for other people to do so. _(And it didn't matter. It did not matter.)_

Danny seemed to be looking straight through the TV as if his thoughts were far away and slowly he raised his eyes to meet Rusty's. Unease rose in Rusty and he was unsure why. He shook himself mentally.

"Danny," Rusty acknowledged and headed towards his room.

"Well?" From Danny, soft and slightly menacing and it made Rusty stop and turn towards him.

"Danny, I'm tired, I'm fucked and I need a shower. Can't this wait?"

Danny sprang up and strode across the room till he was stood in front of Rusty and the air between them was suddenly charged with confrontation.

"You think?"

Rusty sighed. Obviously, it couldn't.

"The address is sound. The Canaletto is indeed in the possession of one Hemingford Grey-"

"Fuck the painting." Tight and fierce.

"Fuck the…?" Non-plussed, Rusty stared at him. "_What_…?"

"I saw you with Alex," Danny said and his voice was filled with inexplicable fury. "We all saw you with Alex."

"Ah…" That explained why no Ed. It didn't explain the anger in Danny, the edge in his manner, like he was going to explode. The tension rose in answer in Rusty. There had to be a problem with the job.

"What is it?" he asked urgently. "Something wrong with the leech-"

"No!" The word ripped out of Danny and Rusty almost flinched. "You! You and Alex!"

Rusty frowned and it seemed to enrage Danny more.

"You don't even get what's wrong with the picture, do you?"

"I got the information-"

"Yeah." Danny's lip curled. "Didn't you just."

There was a glimmer of comprehension and Rusty was speechless. He _couldn't_ be understanding correctly.

"I need some air," Danny announced and the look in his eyes was revulsion and Rusty was frozen to the spot. Danny leaned in close. "This was cheap and easy, Rusty. I didn't have you down as either."

* * *

As the door shut behind Danny, Rusty stood for a long, long moment and then headed off to the bathroom.

Eyes closed, Rick lay on the couch and smiled.


	25. Aftermath

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: oh, they're really not mine. Would say I was just taking them out of the toybox but last time I tried that line, there were unflattering comparisons.

A/N: am expecting everyone to be reading "Steps Forward and Back", otherhawk's powerful sequel to the amazing "Falling like dominoes". And as someone with serious fic length calculation issues (see last chapter's full title), am seriously impressed with the whole post-it note and the writing discipline implied. Am imagining pristine post-it note with clear, legible annotations. Sigh. Serious post-it note envy.

Chapter Twenty-five: Aftermath

* * *

It briefly occurred to Eduardo that he wasn't completely certain where he was. And walking alone through NYC late at night without a clear idea of where you were and where you were going was probably not the smartest move in the book.

He didn't much care.

Seeing Rusty…watching Rusty…knowing what Rusty was planning on doing, what he _was _doing…

Eduardo gritted his teeth and carried on walking.

_They had been working together for a little while. The jobs had been fun and thrilling and they had had considerable enjoyment in spending the proceeds – Rusty eating éclairs at the Ritz was a fond memory. There had been a couple of narrow escapes – Rusty with a knife at his throat, talking their way out of a misunderstanding was a less fond though equally vivid recollection. On the whole, however, Eduardo thought it was safe to say that trying to rob Marc Buchet had been the best decision he had ever made._

_Rusty dazzled. Not just when he wanted to, when he turned on the charm and the smile and girls giggled and upgrades were assured and tables were found in busy restaurants. Rusty dazzled professionally as well. Eduardo saw him lost in thought in a hotel room, surrounded by little bits of paper untidily but precisely arranged or stretched out unmoving on a rooftop, dressed head to toe in black, moonlight picking out only the highlights in his eyes… Eduardo drank in the expertise and the grace and the intelligence and the beauty and the experience and he had never felt more alive._

_It was a shock and it shouldn't have been – after Marc Buchet, it really shouldn't have been – when Rusty aka Pierre Dussollier allowed himself to be romanced by Christophe Langlois who had a weakness for old diamonds and young blonds. _

_Eduardo had grown less surprised. _

_Rusty would disappear and return with information they hadn't been able to obtain or the target that they couldn't find a way in to – Gloria Hartnett, Wilhelm Holstein, Tanith Rossini, John Turner… When he came back, nothing was said, nothing was discussed. Eduardo had wondered if this was the way Rusty expected things to be done. And after all, there was something to be said for initiative…_

_He got his answer one June night when he was sitting sipping cocktails with Andre Dupois, owner of a particularly fine emerald necklace, in one of the nicest Riviera hotels. Andre had given him all the signals and Eduardo had flirted back and this was now at the stage where the invitation to go back to Andre's room was pretty much understood. _

_Rusty had arrived._

_Stony-faced and silent, he'd dragged Eduardo away and pushed him into the car and there had been no words until Rusty had driven them back to their current apartment and closed the door behind them._

"_No," Rusty said firmly. "Never."_

_Bewildered, Eduardo had looked at the fierce anger facing him._

"_But you-"_

"_Do as I say, not as I do," Rusty had said sharply and Eduardo had understood a little more._

_It was never Rusty's first option. It was never Rusty's preferred option. _

_Didn't make it any less painful to witness. _

Eduardo glanced around. He really had to think about heading back.

* * *

Rusty stood under the shower and cleaned himself, not feeling the warmth of the water, not feeling anything except a slow-burning anger that was busy working its way through him.

"…_cheap and easy…"_

He set his mouth into a tight line and scrubbed harder with the soap.

* * *

Danny had walked a couple of blocks and found a bench. He'd sat and tried to fathom the feelings of fury that were overwhelming him.

After they'd witnessed Alex and Rusty, the journey back to Maria's had been dreamlike. He'd let Rick lead him, he'd let Rick chatter on about nothing and he hadn't paid much attention to his surroundings until he'd found himself sitting in the easy chair with Rick stretched out on the couch and the television on as background noise.

Somewhere deep inside him, there was the absolute conviction that this was all things wrong. And it wasn't just his own values system, it was his belief in Rusty, in what Rusty was about. For Rusty to do this…

Part of him was arguing that it was really none of his business. That what Rusty did was up to Rusty. That if he wanted to do this…

He hadn't managed to convince himself by the time Rusty had returned. And seeing Rusty post-….post-_everything.._. _Knowing_ that Rusty had… The incoherent anger was immediate and immense and he'd been further enraged by Rusty acting as if he didn't know what the issue was here. Until he realised that Rusty really didn't know what the issue was. And then it had all been too much. He'd felt certain that if he stayed in the same room as Rusty, something would happen that he would regret.

Going outside to cool off had seemed like a good plan. The trouble was it wasn't working.

* * *

Rick had disappeared.

Rusty stood in fresh clothes and looked round at the empty flat and headed out the door and down the stairs. The bar was full but he squeezed into a place at the end of the bar and Maria made her way down to him.

"Whisky. The good stuff," Rusty ordered and his eyes were warning her not to ask. "Leave the bottle," he added and Maria rolled her eyes.

He didn't taste the first two glasses. The next one didn't touch him either. The anger within him was ice-hot.

* * *

In a corner, tucked away but with a good view of the bar, sat Rick and some beers and some new friends. He was having a great evening and Rusty's arrival did nothing to change that.

* * *

"Rusty?"

Rusty's fingers tightened on the glass. He turned his head and glared at Ed.

"You here to talk or you here to drink?"

"I'm here to make sure you're OK," Eduardo said in a low voice.

"Well, that's decent of you." Rusty signalled Maria. "Another bottle and another glass." He turned back to Eduardo. "If you're keeping me company, you're drinking."

Silently, Eduardo poured out a glass.

* * *

Rusty had had enough to drink. He didn't need the reproach he was sensing from Eduardo at his side to tell him that. He didn't even need the way the glass kept moving across the bar every time he wanted to pour whisky into it to tell him that. Rusty knew. It wasn't stopping him drinking.

Who the hell did Danny Ocean think he was? And who the hell did Danny Ocean think Rusty was?

"Loser," he muttered à propos of nothing. "Fucking loser."

Eduardo put a hand on his arm. "Rusty, maybe you should-"

"Don't even think about telling me to call it a night," he said fiercely.

"Rusty, you-"

"Rusty nothing," he said. "Nothing. Do you hear me, Ed? I do not need a smart-mouthed kid telling me what I can and can't do."

Eduardo didn't flinch but Rusty could see his words had bitten and he was sorry about that. He truly was. He still carried on.

"You think that because I babysit you through your professional life that there's some quid pro quo?"

"No, of course not-"

"Just because I clean up your messes doesn't mean you have to follow me round with a shovel."

"I just want-"

"We both know what you want, Ed, and it's not going to happen. It's _never_ going to happen."

Eduardo's face was pale apart from two little flushes of red on his cheeks. Rusty leaned in close.

"I am not fucking you, Ed. I don't do little boys with pointless crushes."

The look from Eduardo was hurt and anger combined and part of Rusty wanted to yell at himself and most of him wanted to focus his rage on a completely different target and none of him was going to stop.

"If it wasn't such a cliché," Eduardo began in a low voice, "I'd-I'd-"

"You'd what, Ed?" And Rusty's face was ugly with contempt. "Make me proud here."

The fist came out of nowhere and connected solidly with Rusty's cheek and it made Rusty shake his head to clear it.

"You can apologise when you've sobered up."

And then Eduardo was gone. With him went Rusty's misplaced rage and his shoulders sagged.

"Ed? Ed! I didn't mean it!" he called after him but he was speaking to air.

He turned back to see Maria, frowning.

"Just keep the whisky coming," he instructed and outstared the concern till Maria sighed and walked away.

"You guys fall out?"

Rick leaned up against the bar beside him.

"It's nothing," he said shortly, draining his glass.

"Not from where I was standing. Three beers," this to Maria who'd arrived with Rusty's malt. "Looked like a fully-fledged lovers' tiff to me."

"It's nothing," Rusty repeated levelly, keeping his voice neutral.

Rick shrugged and continued.

"Guess the making up is always fun. Don't get me wrong, it's not my thing but he's a good-looking boy. Should think the making up is worth doing this to him. Cheating on him and falling out... Imagine he'll be very eager to show how sorry he is he hit you."

With slow deliberation, Rusty swivelled his body to face Rick.

* * *

Danny was a few people away from them. He'd walked in and seen Eduardo hit Rusty and then Rick had made it to the bar to order drinks and he'd started a conversation with Rusty. He was too far away to hear what Rick was saying but he could see Rusty's reaction.

Stillness like no other. Like nothing Danny had ever seen. Holding himself tight and unblinking. And Danny was suddenly moving forward without really understanding why except that this was fury building, white hot and intense and it was about to erupt. Danny was moving forward in the certain knowledge that he was never going to get there in time.

* * *

"Enough!" Danny's arms wrapped themselves round Rusty.

"Bastard!" Rick snarled, wiping the blood off his mouth. He scrambled up to his feet even as Danny was dragging Rusty back and off him.

"Get off me!" Rusty struggled furiously and futilely. "Let go!"

"No!" and then "No!" Danny shouted as Rick's fist drew back.

"You're kidding me! Hold him still!"

Danny swung himself round so that his shoulders blocked the way to Rusty.

"Danny, let go of me!" Rusty was fighting to get free.

"Not happening, Rusty." Danny looked round at Rick, hovering behind him and waiting for a better angle to throw a punch. "Rick, get out of here!"

"Right. Right. I'll just walk away and forget it, shall I?"

Rick circled round to the front of Rusty and then leaned in and delivered a vicious punch to the gut that left Rusty doubled over and Danny yelling at him.

"Keep him out of my way," Rick spat.

"Out the back!" Maria was there. "Get him out the back!"

Danny dragged Rusty, still struggling in his arms, round the corner of the bar and through into the storage area full of crates and boxes.

"Get the fuck off me!" Rusty snarled and Danny finally let him go.

"What the hell was that all about?" Danny demanded.

"What the hell do you care?"

Danny's smile was ice. "I care plenty when it's my partner you're punching."

Rusty bared his teeth. "Well, I care plenty when it's my partner he's insulting."

"Rick might not be an angel-"

"- good enough to do your dirty work though-"

"Dirty work? You'd know all about that."

They stood, hands on hips, glaring at each other and they were suddenly back to where they had been up in the flat, the same argument electric in the air between them.

"Fuck it," Danny snapped suddenly. "Why'd you do it, Rusty? Why _do_ you do it?"

"Oh, you are priceless!" Rusty retorted with feeling. "Where do you get off with this holier than thou attitude?"

"What…?"

"Sending Rick along to set up that little scenario-"

"_Rick_ said…_what_ did Rick say?" Danny's voice was low and intense and urgent.

Rusty stared at him.

"He told me about needing to get a look at the little black book-"

"I didn't…we were going to go back into Larner's…Eduardo and I…_what_ did Rick say? Did he say I _expected_ this?"

Rusty blinked and then ran a hand over his mouth.

"No. No, he didn't," he said eventually, the heat dying a little. "Score one for Rick," he added so softly that Danny almost didn't catch it.

Danny frowned. "I just don't get it, Rusty. And Eduardo…how _could _you, Rusty? He saw you, you know-"

"I'm not fucking Ed!" Rusty announced fiercely.

Danny's eyebrows shot up at the revelation and then he recovered.

"Well, you're not fucking Rick either," he said coldly. "Rick may be many things but he knows where the lines lie just as I do."

Rusty pulled a face. "For an intelligent man, you're stunningly naïve. Life isn't some Care Bear movie."

"You let them…you let…" Danny tailed off, unable to complete the sentence.

"And you're more than a little incoherent. Look, it doesn't matter," Rusty said with emphasis.

"It doesn't _matter!" _Disbelief flooded Danny's voice.

"It's not me they're fucking," Rusty explained coolly.

"This is just a part?"

"Yes."

"It's not your mouth they're using-"

"-no-"

"-it's not your body they're running their hands over-"

"-no-"

"-it's not your hips they're gripping, it's not you they're groping-"

"-no!"

"-it's not your ass they're-"

"_No!" _Rusty's face was livid with passionate fury.

"No." Danny shook his head and there was distance and coldness. "No. Of course not. Truth hurts, doesn't it?"

Rusty's mouth tightened.

"The truth? Let's talk about the truth. Let's talk about the fact that you're so fucking lazy you work with a second rate conman, that you don't want to stretch yourself in any way shape or form. Let's talk about how you have to check in with the little woman on a regular basis…she's really got you tied to the apron strings, hasn't she? Jump when she snaps her fingers? Come running when she calls? Likes to check up on you, doesn't she? Worried you're going to play away? Is that why you're giving me all this shit? You done the dirty on her before-"

Danny launched himself forward, swinging for him and Rusty fell backwards hard against the back door which promptly opened into the alley and then silent mutual rage exploded in a flurry of punches, knuckles burying themselves into flesh, both of them hitting to hurt, trying to injure, anger in every blow.

They rolled over disintegrating cardboard and through puddles and Danny was on top of Rusty and raining down blows, hitting Rusty in the jaw, in the mouth, and then Rusty's fingers were digging up into Danny's face, fingernails raking down Danny's cheeks, drawing blood and he was twisting his body, slamming Danny off balance into the alley wall and wriggling free.

Danny's hand shot out and grabbed his ankle, bringing Rusty face down on to the alley floor and Danny was on top of him again, punching hard into unprotected kidneys.

Blood dripping from his lip, Rusty sat back and drove a vicious elbow into Danny's solar plexus, winding him and he scrambled up and round and his fingers locked into Danny's hair and smacked Danny's head into brickwork. The heel of Danny's hand smashed up under Rusty's jaw and then they were rolling over and over, neither gaining clear advantage, limited to clumsy body blows by the confines of the alley.

Cold water suddenly drenched them and they separated, rolling apart.

"Grow up! The pair of you!" Maria was stood over them, empty bucket in hand, eyes flashing.

"Maria-" Rusty began.

"Save it!" she snapped and she glared at Danny as if daring him to try and say something. "Look at the state of you! I'm going back to the bar but you get yourselves downstairs and clean yourselves up and by God, if you disturb Grace and the puppies, you'll answer to me."

Rusty rubbed his mouth and got to his feet. Danny wiped the blood out of his eyes and stood up too. They stared at Maria and then reluctantly at each other and Rusty gave a shrug and a wince and Danny nodded and grimaced and they followed Maria back inside.

* * *

The dogs were sleeping. Grace opened a watchful eye and then half-closed it.

Danny slumped down at the table and then there was cold pain relief pressed into his hand. He looked up at Rusty.

"Thanks," he said and dabbed at his face, wincing as the teatowel-covered ice made contact with his injuries.

"Welcome," Rusty said, sitting down opposite, pressing a similar compress against his swelling lip.

They sat in silence for a moment or two and then Danny sighed.

"It's none of my business-"

"-you got that right."

"But why? Why?" Rich with soft incomprehension.

"I told you," Rusty said. "It doesn't matter."

And his eyes were fierce and definite on this point.

Danny nodded slowly.

"I guess we're going to have to agree to disagree," he said and there was more than a flavour of sorrow and disappointment in there.

Rusty's chin was raised defiantly.

"I guess we are," he said and there was detached and aloof and if ever either of them had thought there was common ground, they knew that this stood between them insurmountably.

* * *

A/N: the Care Bear mention was exclusively for otherhawk. She is such a fan of the purple variety. I try not to judge...


	26. Auction

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: didn't create Danny or Rusty.

A/N: otherhawk mocks my speed at writing fic. Sigh. I do my best...

Chapter Twenty-six: Auction

_**

* * *

**_

SomeTime…SomeWhere…

Her hair was a long, dark veil and it framed her pale, pale face. Silver eyes stared with undisguised misery at the new future fragments that were tumbling like dice across a craps table.

Voices could be heard.

"_You didn't feel a thing, right?" _

"_No one's dead yet, are they?" _

"_There's nothing wrong with my fucking memory!"_

"_I don't feel like dying today."_

Slowly, she raised her head and met the other's gaze, indifferent, incurious.

"It's so much worse," she whispered.

* * *

Rusty was willing to admit he'd been wrong. Firstly, that Danny had expected him to sleep with Alex. When he'd been faced with the fury and the disgust, he'd been able to see how very genuine Danny was about it all. And for a moment, he'd thought that maybe Danny had set up the situation through Rick as some sort of test. Some sort of games-playing. But when he'd heard, when he'd _seen_ Danny's incredulity at the very idea that he'd somehow used Rick to ask Rusty...well...Rusty had realised that Rick was the one playing games, the one setting up a little trick of his own. And he'd fallen for it completely.

He flexed his right hand and winced slightly. It had been some time since he'd been caught up in something quite so physical. He was coming down off the adrenaline high and his blood was cooling to somewhere near normal. Now the fight was over, his body was starting to complain about the punishment it had received. He told it to be quiet and alternated the ice between his lip and his jaw.

He glanced across the table. Danny wasn't looking any prettier. Like Rusty, his hair was plastered to his head thanks to Maria and the water. There were gouges in his cheeks and a wound up on his temple that was refusing to stop bleeding.

"Sorry," Rusty said, nodding at the trickle of blood skirting Danny's left eye.

"Me, too," Danny said and the damn sadness was still in there.

Rusty ignored it.

"You might need stitches," he suggested.

"Nah," Danny shook his head and then grimaced. "No," he said firmly as Rusty's eyebrows raised. "I'm fine."

Danny's bruises from the attack a couple of weeks ago would only just be a memory, Rusty realised, and he sat back in his chair and felt guilt ridiculously flood through him.

"What?" Danny asked him.

"Nothing," he said truthfully. It _was _ridiculous, he told himself. Not like he needed to worry about Danny Ocean's continued good health.

* * *

They'd mopped up their injuries and towelled off their hair and walked out past a glaring Maria who was ushering the last of her late night crowd out of the door.

"Hold up," she instructed and they stopped and turned round to face her.

She cast a scrutineering eye over both of them and then folded her arms.

"This gonna happen again?"

"No."

"No."

"Probably-"

"-almost certainly-"

"-not." Said as one and Maria's eyebrows raised just a little.

"Good." The hostility faded and she added softly, "You boys need anything?"

They shook their heads mutely.

"Good," she said again. "I'll see you in the morning then."

* * *

The living area was dark and empty.

"Guess they're in bed," Danny said. "Guess we ought to head there too."

Rusty hesitated. "Rick...I need to-"

"-tomorrow," Danny said.

Rusty nodded. He glanced at Eduardo's door. "Ed can't wait till then."

"Rus-" Danny sounded like he'd started the name and stopped himself halfway. "Rus." This time it sounded deliberate and Rusty waited for what seemed like an eternity.

* * *

Emotions were washing over Danny one after another as he looked at Rusty, feelings that he couldn't truly explain. The horrified anger was still there, of course, burning away but subdued and simmering as if someone had turned the gas down on a stove. Stronger still was an overwhelming yearning to find an answer to the "why" and to convince Rusty that it wasn't a valid argument. And that was fuelled by some crazy kind of rush of protective affection also - and where was that from? - something about saving Rusty from himself because it _hurt_ to look at Rusty and to know what...to know. To stand and look at Rusty and to think about talent and understanding and intelligence subjugating itself.

Danny swallowed.

It hurt deep down and it was sharp sorrow and it twisted and twisted and twisted away and...

* * *

In the half-light, Rusty stared at Danny's face and he thought he saw Saul. He saw the look of absolute agony that he imagined Saul would be wearing if he knew what Rusty had done tonight. What Rusty had done before. What Rusty would do again. He saw caring - and where was that from? - and disapproval and pain and sadness and an ache to sit Rusty down and explain...

It was easier when there was only the fury and the disgust to deal with.

His fingernails curled into his palms and he fought the urge to run. He needed to get out of this and quickly.

"Gonna tell me goodnight and sleep well?" he suggested with an aggressive edge to his voice. "You said that to the missus tonight?"

There was a deliberate jeer in the way he said it and he saw Danny's face change. There was coldness and tightness and that was fine. That, Rusty could handle.

"Get some rest," Danny said and disappeared into his room.

Rusty looked after him for a couple of beats and then walked to Eduardo's door and softly knocked.

* * *

Danny shut the bedroom door behind him and rested his head back against it. Pointless to be angry or horrified, pointless to care, pointless to hurt. He hadn't known Rusty before a couple of weeks ago. Crazy to feel this intensity of emotion about someone who was barely an acquaintance. Rusty was his own man. He certainly didn't owe Danny any explanations.

* * *

Eduardo had been in bed but he hadn't been sleeping. Instead, he'd been lying facing the wall and thinking about other times when Rusty had returned and there'd been whisky drunk and no words and all he had been able to do was mutely keep him company.

He wasn't even sure that it mattered to Rusty that he was there. It mattered to Eduardo. He hated every second of Rusty using himself like this. Almost as much as Rusty himself hated it. The self-loathing was there if you knew where to look. There in the way Rusty avoided mirrors, there in the refuge sought in silence and in alcohol. And still Rusty carried on.

Tonight…well, tonight had been the first time he'd seen Rusty riled. Lashing out and trying to wound with words. Trying and succeeding. Eduardo bit his lip.

"_I am not fucking you, Ed. I don't do little boys with pointless crushes." _

Vicious and deliberate, looking for reaction. Looking for-

The knock on the door shook him out of his thoughts and he sat up in bed.

"Come in," he invited, turning on the light by his bed and then there was Rusty.

"Madre de dios," Eduardo muttered as he looked at Rusty's face and he was half out of the bed but Rusty waved a hand and instead came to him, sat down beside him.

"S'OK," Rusty said. "Looks worse than it is."

"You sure about that? It looks…"

Eduardo reached up automatically, hesitated and then pressed a hand gently to the side of Rusty's face. Rusty didn't pull away but he didn't lean in to the touch either. He was suffering the gesture, Eduardo realised and he let his hand drop slowly away.

"Ed," Rusty began.

"It's OK," Eduardo replied quickly.

"No, it's not," Rusty corrected him.

"Really, it is, I know you didn't-"

"Ed!" Rusty cut him short. "Shut the fuck up and let me apologise."

There was silence and then Rusty laughed softly. "Can't even get that right, can I? Look, I'm sorry. I…I was well out of line and I am sorry, Ed. It wasn't anything to do with you. You were just…there."

Eduardo nodded. He had been there. He wanted to always be there. He wished he could just say it.

"What happened?" he asked instead.

"After you left?" Rusty shrugged and Eduardo saw him hide the wince. "Kind of fell out with Rick. Kind of fell out with Danny."

"You going for three in a row?"

Rusty smiled. "There was a logic to it at the time."

"And now?"

Rusty considered. "Still glad I hit Rick. Still sorry I hit you. Jury's still out on Danny."

"The con still going ahead?"

"Con's alive and kicking, Ed."

He nodded again and he looked at Rusty, beaten and bruised and unbowed and he said, "I could stay with you tonight."

"Nah, Ed. Not necessary." Quick and smooth and easy.

"Then stay with me," Eduardo asked and put everything into the request.

There was a pause and then Rusty flashed him a smile. "Sure, kid."

* * *

Rick was first up and dressed and scowled at his marked face. Fucking faggot. Harder than he looked, though. Certainly hit harder.

Eduardo appeared and behind him, Rusty and Rick was savagely delighted to see that he'd taken a pounding. Looked like Danny had doled out a little chastisement. Good. He hoped every bastard blow had hurt.

"Ed, can you give us a moment?"

Eduardo stepped into the bathroom and fuck it. What now? What with the privacy? The faggot going to propose?

"Rick. Just so's we're clear. You _never_ speak about Ed like that again."

"Or what?"

The smile was sudden and fierce. "You don't want to know the what, Rick. We understand one another?"

He could afford to be generous.

"After last night, I think we understand each other just fine."

Rusty's eyes were sharp. "I think we do too."

Danny chose that moment to appear and Rick's mouth tightened when he saw Danny's face. He took two strides towards Rusty.

"Why, you fucking-"

Danny was suddenly in between them and holding him back and saying his name and the madness died just enough for him to hear what Danny was saying.

"It's OK, Rick, it's OK. It's all over. It's all over, Rick."

Dimly, he was aware of the kid coming out of the bathroom in time to hear Danny say again, "It's finished, Rick. It's nothing."

He stared at a pair of clear blue eyes that were waiting and he saw the balance in the man, the readiness to fight if necessary and it was good that he understood the threat. How fucking dare he lay a hand on Danny...

"Rick…"

Slowly, slowly he unclenched his fists and shook Danny off. Danny gave him a searching look and he half-met it and then turned his attention back to Rusty. Danny let out a breath of a sigh and then addressed all of them.

"Last night, we said some things and did some things which weren't clever. That's done and dusted. We draw a line under last night. This is the morning of. We concentrate. We focus. Last night is _over."_

Over. Right. Rick held the steel of Rusty's gaze. It wasn't over at all.

* * *

They sat round the table downstairs, eating breakfast and drinking coffee.

"Auction starts at twelve," Danny said.

"We need to be online early," Rusty said and then broke off as he caught sight of Danny's face. "Oh…" he shook his head and looked away and drank his coffee and laughed to himself.

"What's so funny?" Rick snapped.

Rusty put his cup down and leaned his elbow on the table, resting his cheek against his fingers, amusement across his face.

_You haven't told him._

_No._

Danny's eyes were guilty and awkward all at the same time.

_S'OK._

Rusty told him it didn't matter. Easier to leave things as they were, all things considered.

Danny surprised him.

_No._

* * *

He'd planned to talk it through with Rick separately. To hear the indignation and to soothe and mollify and somehow, somehow he just hadn't got round to it. There'd been the apartment and the dogs and the diversion of finding out about where Rusty had been disappearing to and the planning of the surprise of surprising Rusty. He'd realised the previous day that he still hadn't spoken to Rick and he'd thought he might speak to him that night and look how last night had turned out.

Time and opportunity had just melted.

For a moment, the sentimental in him warred with the hard-nosed strategy and Rusty was right. He could leave things as they were. That was the simple option. Tempting and easy… He lifted his chin just a little. It was his fault and he'd handle the consequences.

"Change of plan, gentlemen. Rusty's going to run the auction."

Eduardo's eyes flicked straight to Rusty. Rusty's eyes were on his. And Danny steeled himself and turned to Rick.

Disbelief and hurt and anger looked back at him.

"I'm out, Danny?" Soft and betrayed.

As he'd pictured, as he'd imagined and he kept his face warm and full of what Rick meant to him, friend and partner and someone he relied on.

"Rusty's running the auction," he said and there was understanding and there was _sorry _and there was final in there.

Rick stared at him for a long, long moment and then turned back to his breakfast and silently ate.

"You're not going to be able to go in," Rusty's voice brought Danny back and Danny, who had seen himself in the mirror that morning, nodded.

"Thanks to you." The snarl was low and fierce and Rick was never going to stay silent for long.

"Yeah," Rusty agreed quietly. "Thanks to me."

And Rusty's eyes were taking the blame and apologising for screwing up the job.

"Not essential I'm there," Danny said firmly. "Charles was only going to look in before the start anyway. He was never going to be around to answer questions afterwards."

"Still…" Rusty was frowning. "We could do with some eyes and ears there for the build up."

And looking at Rusty's face, James wasn't going to be able to make it either. Neither was Rick. Danny glanced at Eduardo thoughtfully.

"No." It came from Rusty. "He's been there once. He's met Alex. It's too risky."

"I met Alex when I was dressed as a tourist in a loud shirt and I wanted to be noticed," Eduardo retorted. "I can do invisible as well, you know."

"Ed, I don't want you taking risks-"

"You going to be around to hold my hand all my life?"

There was a flash of anger in there and something behind it that Danny couldn't fathom. Whatever it was, Eduardo seemed to have won that argument and Rusty's gaze dropped to his empty coffee cup.

"I'm in," Eduardo told Danny. "What do you want me to do?"

* * *

Rick had pulled him to one side as they'd headed back up the stairs.

"You don't think I can do it, Danny?"

Danny felt the weight of five years of partnership, of friendship, asking the question and he took a deep breath and told the truth.

"You can do it, Rick. Rusty will do it better."

"You don't know that!" Mistaken understanding dawned in Rick's face. "Did he suggest this? What did he say-?"

"He didn't say anything. This is my idea. Rick…you're the best friend I could wish for and I never, ever want to hurt you. You're good, you really are-"

"But Rusty's better." Bitterness fell from Rick's mouth. "So what?" he added jerkily. "You thinking about ditching me and hooking up with him?"

"No!" Danny was horrified. "Never! Rusty isn't you, Rick," he added earnestly.

Rick looked a little comforted. "Alright," he said eventually. "Let's see what he can do."

* * *

Eduardo stood looking at his reflection. Dark suit and tie, hair neatly slicked back across his head with an unflattering parting, dark rimmed glasses and a pencil moustache. Ordinary and unappealing and he concentrated on being a man whom glances would slide over.

He turned and glanced at the bed and was filled with the happy warmth of waking up to Rusty lying beside him. Didn't matter that Rusty had been fully clothed and it didn't make any difference that Eduardo was convinced the reason Rusty had stayed with him had been about guilt about the way he'd treated him. It had still been a wonderful feeling and he'd lain, eyes half-closed, looking at Rusty through his lashes until eventually Rusty stirred and the spell was broken.

There was a knock on the door.

"You ready, Eduardo?"

"Yeah, Danny. Coming."

* * *

Rusty was sat in front of the computers and monitors like it was mission control. He looked over at Eduardo and nodded approval at the disguise and disapproval that he was going at all.

"Don't be foolish," he said. "Keep your head down and keep your eyes and ears open. Any sign of a problem and you are out of there and you phone me. You understand?"

Eduardo nodded and Rusty relaxed a little.

"Alright. The coin's on at the end. There'll be other pieces auctioned before then. For God's sake, don't bid on anything by accident."

Eduardo grinned. "Not even as a souvenir?"

Rusty's lips twitched. "Not even."

* * *

Alisha had walked into work full of excitement. It had seemed like this day would never come. She'd picked up travel brochures and she sat at her desk and secretly studied the finest hotels. Somewhere near the Champs-Élysées, maybe… Auction preparations started around her as she sat and dreamed.

The call from Charles squashed her mood a little. Apologies, something had come up, he wouldn't be able to make the auction…

"Oh," she'd said and it had sounded as flat as she felt.

But there had been immediate plans to meet later that night and talk of when she could get time off work for their trip and how he hoped she didn't think it was inappropriate of him to say that he didn't want the auction to be the end of their relationship.

She'd finished the call in a happier frame of mind. Charles wanted her. She had never been more certain of anything in her life.

* * *

"Here we go." Rusty was reading the screens and Danny sat beside him, not knowing what he was looking at but trusting to Rusty.

"These are the lots." Rusty indicated one screen. "They're lined up and ready to drop in in sequence. This one," he pointed way down at the bottom of the list. "This is the Dollar."

"This," he flicked a finger across at another monitor, "is where the telephone bids come in from the agents. We're going to be piggy-backing on them. This," another monitor, "is payment details and this," he pointed at the main screen. "This is what the auctioneer sees."

"Ready to rock and roll?" Rick leaned up against the back of the couch, in between them.

"Reckon so," Rusty nodded.

* * *

The auction room was full. There had been a tremendous turnout and Constantine was proud that Mr Fitzwilliam was there to see it. Larner's was a successful operation all round and he worked hard to make it so. He shot a glance at Alex busy organising the porters and he thought of the mystery blond of last night and smiled. It had been a while since he'd seen Alex quite so excited. He'd been almost quivering with eagerness. And not that he, Constantine, was into men but he had to admit the blond had been strikingly handsome. He could understand Alex's anticipation.

"Enjoy yourself last night?" he murmured as Alex passed close by and he laughed at the answering flush.

"Good," he said and meant it. When he thought about it, he loved his little brother. "You seeing him again?"

"I'm not sure." Alex's face fell. "He's left town."

"Pity." He meant that too. And judging by the wistful expression on Alex's face, he also thought so.

"Seems like you have a hit on your hands, Constantine."

Mr Fitzwilliam had appeared at his side, softly-spoken and smiling and Constantine wasn't fooled for a second. Mr Fitzwilliam ruled with a fist of iron, power wrapped up in a three piece suit and a diamond tie pin.

"Yes, sir," he smiled as Alex made himself scarce.

"Are all the men you expect to bid here today?" Mr Fitzwilliam asked.

He scanned the audience. Just as Alex knew the goods in and out, so Constantine knew the men and the schemes that brought the money to launder to Larner's.

"All eight of them," Constantine said decisively. "It will be a profitable day, sir."

"I see some ladies and gentlemen of the press are present." Mr Fitzwilliam inclined his head towards those who stood with pens and notebooks along the edge of the room.

There was a question in there but Constantine could answer it.

"Here for the Dollar, no doubt, sir."

Nothing to worry about. Just some good publicity.

* * *

Eduardo wandered into Larner's, picked up a programme and took up a place near the back of the hall. Good view of the stage but close to the exit. Exits were the first things to look for: he hadn't needed Rusty to teach him that.

* * *

"And we're good to go," Rusty said as the lot at the top of the list highlighted itself and dropped onto the main screen complete with description. He flexed his fingers, ignored the ache in his knuckles and readied himself.

He let the first two lots go, watching the system, the bids, the timing. In his head, he played back the auction he had been present for. He could see the room, the bidders, the lots and he drew on the memory to help his understanding of what was happening.

The third lot was one that Alisha had sourced. A piece of Japanese pottery. Bidding took it up to $7,500 and it was going once, going twice…Rusty threw in a telephone jump bid to $12,000 and waited.

There was a slight pause and Rusty could almost see the surprise on the auctioneer's face. Well-hidden, no doubt. These men were professionals. The bid was accepted. Going once, going twice, gone.

"We're up one piece of pottery," Rusty said with a hint of satisfaction.

"Who's we, exactly?"

"Roger Thornhill."

"Hitchcock fan," Danny murmured and Rusty grinned.

Rusty let the next few pieces go and then he pointed at the main screen.

"That's a jump bid from someone in the room."

"One of the insiders."

"Yeah…" A grin appeared on Rusty's face. "Let's see how they handle this."

He tapped on the keyboard and the telephone bid appeared on the main screen. There was a long pause and Rusty could picture the look of consternation that the auctioneer wasn't showing. This wasn't supposed to happen.

* * *

Something was wrong. Constantine saw the flash of surprise on Hammond's face and frowned. He had been waiting for Hammond to confirm the bid from Rocco who ran a string of girls on the South Side and it hadn't happened.

Hammond looked helplessly at him and then down at his screen and announced the new bid.

Constantine exhaled slowly and threw a glance at Rocco whose smile was slipping away.

"Something wrong, Constantine?" Mr Fitzwilliam and damn the man for being able to read situations so well.

"Not at all, sir," he said smoothly. "Some external interest. We always welcome that."

* * *

By the third time it had happened, he made his way subtly to Hammond's side as the lots were being changed over.

"What's going on?" he demanded, smile on his face and fierce concern in his voice.

"I can't do anything about it, Mr Taylor," Hammond replied. "I've got to go with the bids that come in."

"Yes. Of course, you do." Constantine stared at the screen in front of them. "Of course, you do."

He glanced out at the audience and saw three unhappy faces and five apprehensive ones staring back at him and there was nothing he could do about it.

* * *

They'd taken out the eight jump bids in the room. They'd taken all of Alisha's pieces. And as the auction progressed, Danny had watched Rusty with a growing sense of fascination. Just as when he'd been handling the cards, Rusty worked efficiently, effectively, expertly and Danny sat and couldn't help losing himself as the buzz of the con built.

* * *

Rick saw the look on Danny's face and bit his lip. Then he turned his attention back to the auction and watched the screens in stony silence.

* * *

Alisha was standing at the back of the room and she smiled happily as each of her pieces went for exceptional prices. Her customers would be so pleased and her commission would be fantastic. She would be able to go to France in style.

Speaking of which, the Gobrecht Dollar was coming up next and she had everything crossed that it would surpass its reserve price. The way things had been going her way today, she didn't doubt that it would.

* * *

Alex knew that the auction wasn't the success it appeared to be. Constantine's face told him that much and he'd quickly worked out the reason. There had been the chance for a quick exchange between the brothers and he'd done his best to soothe the tension in Constantine.

"The auction's generated a lot of interest," he said. "People get carried away."

"Yeah. Try telling that to the eight men who can't offload their takings today," Constantine said unhappily. "Try telling it to Mr Fitzwilliam."

"It's the star piece next," Alex pointed out. "That's going to make everything alright. Mr Fitzwilliam will understand."

"Let's hope so."

* * *

Bidding for the Dollar reached fever pitch in the room. It was the piece most people were there for. Hammond brought the hammer down on a six figure sum and there was a round of applause as the winning bidder stood up and took a bow.

Alex and Constantine exchanged relieved looks and then Alex grabbed Constantine's elbow. Hammond was staring down at his screen with a look of absolute horror.

As one, the brothers moved to his side and read the words flashing up at them.

"The Gobrecht Dollar you have just sold is a fake. It's silver-painted lead."

With a shaking hand, Alex reached out to the little velvet box being held by a porter and freed the coin.

"Not here!" Constantine hissed but it was too late. Alex had dragged a thumbnail over the surface and his sharp intake of breath told Constantine all he needed to know.

"It's a fake!"

The cry came from somewhere in the room, somewhere amongst the press and there was immediate outcry. Constantine looked over at Mr Fitzwilliam who was shaking his head sorrowfully.

"Who brought this piece in?" he asked Alex fiercely.

"Alisha-"

"Find her and have her up in my office in five minutes," Constantine snapped. He looked out at the chaos. "Fuck, what a mess."

* * *

Eduardo had stayed long enough to see the fake exposed and now, he was slipping quietly away.

"Excuse me," he said with surprise as he bumped into a large man who screamed security although his badge said "Customer Service Manager".

"Sorry, sir," said the man, getting out of his way and holding the door for him.

"Tony, get Alisha." It was Alex looking flustered. "Find her and get her up to Constantine's office."

"Of course, Mr Taylor." Tony turned his attention back to the door.

"No problem," Eduardo said easily as if there'd been no interruption and he was walking across the foyer and out of the door and down the street and they'd done it. They'd done it. He fished his phone out of his pocket and called Rusty.

* * *

They'd done it. Rusty had put Eduardo on speaker and all three of them had listened in as he'd explained about the uproar and the confusion and the demand to find Alisha.

"Now all we need do is insert Anton's bank details into the system instead of Charles Mortimer's…" Rusty clicked the mouse. "Done."

He looked at Danny sat next to him and sheer exultation was on both their faces; the absolute high of working the con. Then slowly, the look faded as if they both remembered there were reasons that connection was not supposed to be there.

"Good work," Danny said coolly.

"Thanks," Rusty replied.

Danny turned his head towards Rick. "You ready to make a call?"

"I guess."

* * *

Alisha was trembling. Firstly, all the business with the Dollar which she couldn't understand. They seemed to be saying it wasn't real and that had to be wrong. Hadn't she had it checked out herself? And then Tony had found her and insisted on her accompanying him to Constantine's office and that was a place she really didn't want to be.

Constantine scared her. There was danger in the man, a real edge to him and she would never dare sass him not like Alex, Alex was a pushover. Alex was soft as butter but Constantine… He was sitting behind his desk and his jaw was clenched and he was staring intently at her.

She didn't know what she'd done wrong. She glanced at Alex, stood with his arms folded behind Constantine, his face troubled and _he _was no help. Then she looked over at the smartly dressed man in his fifties, greying hair, sitting in the corner and smiling at her. Alisha swallowed hard. The silence was killing her.

"What have I done?" she blurted out. "What is it? What have I…"

She tailed off under Constantine's unrelenting gaze.

"What have I done?" she asked again in a quiet voice.

"The Dollar was a late entry into the auction," Constantine said. "You rushed it through valuation."

"I-yes…I did," she agreed.

Constantine held it up. "It's not real, Alisha. It's a clumsy fake."

"It's…it's what? It can't be." It couldn't be. She'd seen the report herself.

"Who is Charles Mortimer, Alisha?"

"He's…he lives in town." She gave the address. "And this Dollar was left to him by his uncle and he doesn't care for it and…"

"Really." Constantine looked less than convinced.

The phone rang unexpectedly and Constantine answered it with irritation.

"For you," he said to Alex.

Alex took the receiver awkwardly and the voice the other end could be heard loudly by everyone in the room.

"Alisha? It's Anton. What happened with the coin? Where are you? Did they buy it? How much did we make?"

"Who is this?" Alex demanded.

"Who's this?"

"It's Alex Taylor."

"I asked for Alisha…oh, fuck…"

The line went dead and Alisha took a step back into Tony's arms.

"I don't know what he's talking about," she said shrilly. "I don't have a clue."

"Do you know someone called Anton?" Constantine asked and she couldn't hide the truth.

Constantine held up the travel brochures. "We found these at your desk, Alisha. Planning a little trip?"

"I…I…this is crazy!" Tears were running down her face now. "Look, a man called Charles Mortimer brought that Dollar to me. I had it checked out and it was genuine and I put it in the auction and I don't have a _clue _what this is about. I don't understand. I don't know…please…_please…_"

Constantine was smiling and she had never been more frightened and the man in the sharp suit was smiling too and she pulled free from Tony and flung herself at Alex.

"Please, Alex, please," she begged him. "You have to know I'm telling the truth. I don't know what's happened but it's nothing to do with me."

"It's not good, Alisha," Alex said with understatement. Too fucking right it wasn't good. "It doesn't look good. We have a reputation and this…this is _awful_."

"What shall we do with you, Alisha?" Constantine mused.

"I rather think I should like to hear Alex's opinion on the matter," the man in the corner said mildly and Alisha's fingers dug into Alex's arms.

"Please, please, please…" she said over and over.

Alex swallowed and then looked at Constantine and then over at the other man.

"I think there's an opening on the dealers' desks," he said finally and she saw the older man smiling proudly across at Alex as if he'd passed some sort of test. Constantine seemed to be looking behind her.

"No!" she screamed. "No, please! I love this job! Please!"

Tony pulled her off him and out of the room and as she went, she heard Constantine call after her, "Final paycheck's in the post".

* * *

Tony had escorted her out of the building. Tony had taken her home. He hadn't said a word to her and she'd given up trying to plead her innocence. Instead, she'd sat with puffy eyes in the car and tried to figure out what the hell had gone on in the auction and how Anton came into it all. Her head hurt trying to work it out.

"Here," Tony said, opening the door for her.

She stepped out on to the sidewalk and Tony picked up her box of personal belongings and carried it up to the flat.

"You don't have to do that," she said.

"I insist," he told her and she smiled a watery smile at the kind gesture. She was in need of kind gestures.

Alisha opened the door to the flat and Tony followed her in. He put the box down on the table near the window and drew the curtains and that was a kind gesture too. She didn't want to face the world at the moment.

"You want a drink or something?" she asked as he walked back to the door and shut it.

"That'd be nice," he smiled and she smiled back.

* * *

Constantine was in his office when Tony returned.

"Mr Fitzwilliam has had to leave," Constantine said. "I've left Alex sorting out the mess with the auction. I want some good news, Tony."

Tony nodded. "Alisha is definitely an ex-employee of Larner's," he said.

Constantine's face lit up with satisfaction.

"That will do nicely," he said.


	27. Goodbyes and Hellos

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: *wishes very hard to have created them* *checks* Sigh…

Chapter Twenty-seven: Goodbyes and Hellos

* * *

It was late afternoon, nearly early evening and Alex sat alone on the stage of the auction room and stared unhappily out at the rows of empty seats, pushed hither and thither as people had jostled one another to leave, to protest, to try and grab a photo…

Flashbulbs going off. That was what he remembered. Bright lights as Constantine had barked instructions and snatched the coin from him, the coin with the long streak of tell-tale grey showing through the silver, and he had seized the moment of surprise before people could block his path and he had found Tony, ever-dependable Tony, on the door and asked him to find Alisha.

Constantine's voice had come over the PA system, reassuring, asking people to remain calm. People had left. Rocco and Connor and Palmer and five other men with grim faces had walked past him. He had seen Mr Fitzwilliam with an expression of gentle displeasure that chilled him.

Eventually, the crowd had dwindled to persistent press and those who had successfully bid on pieces and were naturally concerned. Tony's men ushered out the press. Constantine had gone to find Mr Fitzwilliam and left Alex stood smiling in front of the bidders, assuring them that there was no need for panic. He'd managed to extricate himself after promising stringent third party valuations on the pieces and left Hammond collecting full contact details. Part of him was glad that so many of the telephone bids had turned out to be fake. At least there were fewer unhappy customers.

The scene with Alisha had been… Alex didn't like scenes. And Mr Fitzwilliam had been sitting and looking on, waiting for him to show what he was made of. He knew Mr Fitzwilliam thought he was soft. Softer than Constantine, not that that was difficult. Alex had squirmed through many meetings where his ability to make the right decision had been carefully tested. He'd always come good. It wasn't as though he didn't know the right answers to give. And sacking Alisha had been a no-brainer.

Still. He didn't like scenes. He was all about keeping the peace and smoothing the surface and no ruffles. Constantine, by contrast, had no problem with confrontation. Constantine courted confrontation. Growing up, Alex had vivid memories of his brother, fierce light in his eyes, refusing to be bested. Nothing had changed. No one got the better of Constantine.

"_No one takes us on, little brother, not without consequences." _

And that had been the way it was: in playgrounds, in back streets, in bars, in clubs and all the way up the rungs of Mr Fitzwilliam's empire as they climbed, driven by Constantine's ruthless ambition.

What had happened this afternoon with the auction…public humiliation in front of Mr Fitzwilliam…Alex swallowed. He himself had been filled with horror but Constantine had been suffused with cold, bright fury.

Alex thought he saw what had happened. Alisha and this Anton had played a pretty game, creating this Charles Mortimer, bringing the fake into Larner's, somehow getting round the valuation and waiting for a sizeable sum to fall into their laps. Alex had pulled a few strings and had had Charles Mortimer's bank account details verified: they belonged to the mysterious Anton and Tony's boys were out looking for him.

And somehow the pair had overridden the security system and manipulated the bidding, boosting all of the items that Alisha would earn commission on and other pieces too, probably to allay suspicion. Of course, they couldn't have known that the bids they'd intercepted were ones that would inconvenience the real operation at Larner's so.

What Alex couldn't understand was the message at the end. The message that the Dollar was a fake. Constantine hadn't mentioned it but he couldn't possibly have forgotten it and it had been preying on Alex's mind. Anton hadn't sent it. Obviously. So who had?

He studied the silver paint under his thumbnail and laughed to himself mirthlessly. This would all be a whole lot easier if they could just call in the police.

* * *

None of them had eaten since breakfast. Eduardo brought back Chinese takeout and they sat around the table digging into late lunch and drinking sodas. Eduardo looked around the silent table. At Danny, carefully structuring pancake, duck and hoisin sauce; at Rick, forking rice and beef in black bean sauce on to his plate; at Rusty, skilfully lifting the peas out of the egg fried rice with chopsticks and putting them on the side.

"If you don't like the peas…" Danny began, frowning.

"I like the rice and the egg," Rusty shrugged.

The mood wasn't exactly jubilant. Eduardo thought of other successes where he and Rusty had celebrated and he'd felt giddy with champagne and triumph and he'd seen how Rusty's eyes had shone and the giddiness had increased. This was all a little more muted, a little more reserved. And in truth they'd really only done two-thirds of the job - they still had to get Doug's painting back – but it was about last night, of course.

Eduardo hadn't been able to get to the bottom of why Rusty had felt the need to pick fights with Rick and Danny but he thought it was probably the same reason Rusty had been intent on goading him. Diversionary tactics.

Rick kept shooting scowls in Rusty's direction and maybe he didn't even know he was doing it. Danny seemed guarded and careful in what he said and how he said it. And Rusty was perhaps even more self-contained than normal. If that were possible.

Well. Time for diversionary tactics of his own.

"So," Eduardo said brightly. "When are we leaving?"

Three pairs of eyes looked at him and then at each other. At bruises forming on Rick's face, at Rusty's swollen lip, at scratches running down Danny's cheeks.

"We should give it a day or so," Danny muttered and he went back to the pancake. "We ought to make sure Alisha's out of a job anyway before we can tell Doug that we've dealt successfully with both her and Anton."

"What about the apartment?" Eduardo asked in between mouthfuls of chicken and pineapple. "Do we need to-"

"We don't go near it," Rusty told him. "Danny wiped it clean yesterday afternoon. We steer clear."

"Have to lose the computers." Rick waved a fork at the technology. "And you'd better take the coin back to your _friend."_ The last was aimed at Rusty and laden with meaning.

"Rick…" Danny shuffled in his seat.

"Your friend who let you borrow it for…nothing?"

"Rick!" Danny was glaring at him hard.

"What, you don't think he whored himself out for the privilege? You know what he's like-"

"Shut up!" Eduardo was on his feet, leaning across the table, face flushed.

"Sorry, kid," Rick waved a hand in his direction. "Nothing personal." He looked at Rusty. "Not as far as you're concerned, anyway, kid. Sit down."

"Not until you've apologised!"

"To him?" Rick laughed heartily. "You hear that, Danny?"

"I heard." Danny's voice was soft and quiet and dagger-sharp. "I think he has a point."

Eduardo stared at Danny. So did Rick. Danny's eyes were on Rusty's.

Eduardo turned his head and saw Rusty run a finger around his bottom lip then sit back in his chair and study Rick contemplatively. Then he glanced at Eduardo and then at Danny.

"It's not in my nature to quit," Rusty began, speaking as quietly as Danny had spoken. "When I give someone my word, when I say that I am going to do something, I do it. But with this job? With this job, I'd say that the difficult part is over. I would think taking the Canaletto back isn't beyond the imagination," a pause as he stared at Danny, "or the skill," eyes across to Rick and back again, "of either of you. I don't need Doug Quentin's money and I'm ready to walk off this job-"

"Good riddance," Rick interrupted.

"-I'm ready to walk off this job right now," Rusty repeated, "I don't need to be here."

"Rusty…" Eduardo's heart was in his mouth. This was their final job, this was their last chance to work together, his last opportunity to be with Rusty.

Rusty ignored him. "So the question is, do we part company?"

"No," Eduardo breathed.

Rick let out a kind of gleeful bark.

Rusty's gaze was on Danny, waiting for his answer and Eduardo saw Rick turn to his partner also. Eduardo stared at Danny too. Danny had eyes only for Rusty and there was a long, long look between them which Eduardo didn't have a hope of interpreting.

_

* * *

_He'd gone for the vote of confidence and he knew it could go either way. He looked at dark eyes that were weighing up a number of options.

_

* * *

__(SomeWhere, golden breath was being held.)_

* * *

Finally, Danny spoke.

"It's bad luck to break up a crew before the job's over. We stay together."

Rusty nodded slowly, even as Eduardo was inwardly rejoicing, even as Rick's face showed disappointment. And Danny nodded slowly back.

They needed Rusty. Not that it was entirely about that. When it came down to it, Danny found he wasn't ready to say goodbye to Rusty quite yet. And that was crazy. _Almost as crazy as how Rusty had made him feel, the freedom to think and the freedom to imagine...freedom..._ Danny stopped the thought. It was crazy. But the fact that they needed Rusty wasn't.

* * *

Rusty had called his bluff. Rusty had sat there and called his bluff. Because no matter how he, Rick, felt, if Danny wanted Rusty then the decision was made.

Danny had chosen Rusty over him. Again.

"Rick…" Danny prompted and he exhaled slowly.

"Alright." He turned to Rusty. "Alright. I don't like you much. Guess you didn't need me to say that out loud. I don't like the way you have an answer for everything. I don't like the way you encourage Danny with those wild ideas of his or those stupid conversations between you that go nowhere. It doesn't surprise me you like sleeping around. I think you're shallow as hell. Getting your kicks out of…" Rick shook his head. "Yeah. I don't like you much. But…I'll swallow all that. Danny's right. We finish this job. And then, we never have to see one another again. That's right, isn't it?"

He looked at Danny and there was nothing either way. No reassurance, no disagreement. He looked at the kid who was sinking down into his seat and there was inexplicable pain on Eduardo's face. He looked back at Rusty and the man flicked him a smile – a fucking smile!

"That's right, Rick. We go our separate ways and we don't ever have to send each other Christmas cards."

"Right." Rick nodded. "Well, I've had my say." He hesitated for a moment. Then the words burned in his mouth. "I am sorry, Rusty."

* * *

"Think he means it?" Eduardo asked as Rusty brought the soda bottles through to the little kitchen where Eduardo was washing the plates.

"Think he means Danny to hear it." Rusty put the bottles down on the side. "Danny wants happy campers."

"Did you mean it?" Eduardo scrubbed at a stubborn piece of grease. "When you said they could pick up the Canaletto themselves?"

Rusty leant up against the work surface and shrugged. "Don't see why not. Rick's semi-capable when he's concentrating though why Danny bothers... And Danny…when he lets himself go…"

And that hadn't exactly been the point of the question but something in Rusty's voice made Eduardo glance up sharply and he saw _something_ on Rusty's face, Rusty staring into mid-distance.

Rusty must have realised because he came back to him with a heart-stopping smile. "Anyway. Not happening."

The smile was…the smile was… Eduardo swallowed hard.

"So," he said and he hated the way his voice had risen just a little. "So," he said again in his normal voice, "what do you think Danny's home is going to be like?"

"Danny's natural habitat?" The smile dimmed to bearable wattage. "I'm thinking modern and empty and soulless. I figure it's some sort of prison that he just aches to escape from. Wife's got him well under the thumb."

* * *

Eduardo's expression told him what his instincts were screaming at him and he turned to see Danny in the doorway, clutching the empty cartons.

"Rick's phoning his press contacts," Danny said tonelessly. "Find out what they're saying."

He didn't know how long Danny had been there or what he'd heard but judging by the amount of tightness and rigid control being exerted, the answer was long enough.

* * *

They had taken the day or so that Danny suggested.

Long enough for the physical aftermath of the night of fights to start to fade, for angry marks to lose their anger and swelling to die down. For all trace of the technology to have vanished from Maria's. For a phone call to Larner's to discover that sorry, Alisha no longer worked there and could anyone else help? For a small report on an unsavoury moment in a successful auction house's history to appear in columns of newspapers complete with photograph. For Doug Quentin to chortle with delight at the other end of the phone and to demand to be told about the two cons again.

Time for the four of them to have settled down into a routine of cool politeness, of manners, of discussion limited to the professional, not the personal.

* * *

"I came to say thank you and goodbye."

Maria looked up from the table where she had been doing her accounts.

"We're pretty much ready to go," Danny went on. "I just wanted-"

He broke off and looked down at a determined pup attacking his left shoe. He bent down and scooped it up, keeping his fingers carefully away from the needle sharp teeth.

"Humphrey, right?"

"Yeah. Got a kind of soft spot for him." She nodded down at Grace. "Gonna get Johnny to help me sort out the dogs when they're ready to leave their mom."

Danny put Humphrey back down with his brothers and sisters and caught sight of Maria's face with a question in it.

"What do you want to ask me?" he smiled gently.

Maria hesitated then appeared to make up her mind.

"Rusty." And then her words came out in a rush. "I just want to ask you to look out for him because he needs someone. He just doesn't know it."

Danny opened his mouth and she leapt in.

"And don't say 'Eduardo'. Eduardo is a nice kid and you don't need to be a genius to see that he cares a great deal for Rusty. Doesn't mean he's the right person."

"And why am I?"

"Just the way he speaks about you." Maria shrugged. "Makes me think you're special. Takes a lot to impress Rusty."

"He's impressed?" Danny's eyebrows shot up.

Maria snorted. "Trust me." She looked shrewdly at Danny. "You haven't said yes."

Danny nodded agreement and added, "Haven't said no."

She smiled and stood up, linking his arm through hers. "Let's go and say goodbye to the others."

* * *

Eduardo kissed her on the cheek respectfully and Rick shook her hand and gruffly thanked her for the food and lodgings. Rusty stood a little way apart and she saw Danny marshal the others tactfully out on to the pavement with their luggage to summon a cab.

"Am I going to see you any time soon?" she asked.

"Probably when you're not expecting it," Rusty grinned. "Somehow it tends to work out like that."

Maria pressed a hand up to his face. "You look after yourself. Or you'll have me after you."

"Always a threat I need to take seriously."

"Don't leave it so long." She hugged him fiercely.

She felt him smile against her cheek. "Not what you said last time."

He pulled out of the embrace and looked at her.

"Keep well, Maria," he said, "and thanks."

* * *

Danny dug out his phone at the airport and made the phone call.

"Hi, it's me." Warm. Friendly. "Just to say I'm on my way home. Be back tonight." He glanced at Rick, a few feet away. "Yes, he's coming with me." There was a pause and he looked over at Rusty, biting into a Hershey's bar and Eduardo, checking the departure board. "Bringing a couple of people with me, too," he said in a low voice. "Just people. Yeah. Yeah, two of them." He smiled. "Do you mind? Thank you. No, no. That's OK. I'll explain when I get home. Thank you."

He headed to the airport shop and made a couple of purchases.

* * *

The flight to Burlington took about an hour and a half and as they headed towards longterm parking, Rusty saw Danny's face grow more and more tense with every step they took.

Interesting.

He'd worked out that Danny didn't want Teresa to see the worst of the cuts and bruises. He'd overheard a handful of phone calls, enough to know that she demanded attention. Idly, he wondered what she looked like. In his mind's eye, he saw Danny with tall and beautiful. Smart and funny too, probably. Someone who gave as good as she got.

Danny unlocked the car and they piled in and then Danny reached across Rick and into the glove compartment and retrieved something gold and shiny. Wedding band. Wordlessly, he slipped it on his finger and then started the engine, hit the radio and drove off. Above the background noise, Rusty exchanged intrigued glances with Ed.

They drove a little way out of town and for a while, Rusty was lost in the beauty of Nature. It was September, early Fall and the leaves were changing: an amazing sight.

Eventually, they reached a cluster of houses and shops and then a long lane where the road became less deliberate. Trees and track and then a clearing and two houses, a little way apart, both overlooking a sandy beach and Lake Champlain. Rusty got out of the car and stared. It was idyllic.

Danny was looking up at what had to be his own front door and there was reluctance in there, deep-rooted and sizeable and Rusty caught hold of his arm.

"We don't have to be here," he said softly. "You can drop Ed and me back in town. It'll be fine."

Danny looked at him and his eyes were deep and unfathomable.

"Come on," he instructed and led them up the steps to the door. He used the key in the lock and called, "Honey? I'm home."

There was a squeal and then a figure buried itself in Danny's arms and all Rusty could make out was long, dark hair.

"Teresa." Danny spoke her name with love.

She stepped back and Rusty saw her face for the first time and his breath caught. Beauty. Long lashes, dark eyes and a heart-shaped face staring up at Danny with adoration.

"I brought some friends-" Danny began but Teresa interrupted him.

"You've hurt your face!"

"Just a little. I got scratched."

"By a cat? By a big old cuddly cat like Felicity's?"

"Canute? No, no." Danny's voice was full of laughter and then deliberation. "This was a vicious little alley-cat. Nothing cuddly about this one."

Teresa looked over Danny's shoulder and her face lit up when she saw Rick.

"Hey, Teresa." He embraced her awkwardly and then hung back behind Danny and she saw Rusty and Eduardo for the first time.

"You brought friends!" she laughed delightedly and clapped her hands.

"Rusty. Eduardo." Danny introduced. "This is my wife, Teresa."

She seized Rusty's arm. "Do you want to come and see my house?"

"I-" He looked beyond Teresa into the big living room and the huge dolls house on the floor. "I..."

Words froze up inside him. This was nothing close to what he'd thought. This was… He felt the others' eyes on him and this was…this was…

"I'd love to, Teresa," Eduardo said, stepping forward and she smiled at him and pulled him into her home.

"Lost for words, hotshot?" Rick asked as he pushed past Rusty.

Rusty looked at Eduardo sitting cross-legged on the floor as Teresa pushed tiny furniture into his hands. Then, with an effort, he turned his head and saw Danny staring in at the same scene. He opened his mouth to say something, to force words to come out but there was nothing.

"Let's get your rooms sorted," Danny said, not looking at him and mutely, Rusty followed him into the house.

* * *

A/N: just a quick thank you to everyone patiently following this. Hope you finally feel like we're getting somewhere. ;)


	28. Teresa

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: didn't invent them. Just borrowing.

A/N:

occasionally

there is the need for me to

humbly

explain that

really she

honestly is

a

wonderful,

kind, supportive friend as well as a marvellous talent.

Thanks to otherhawk so much for pre-read and reassurance.

Chapter Twenty-eight: Teresa

* * *

By his twenty-first birthday, Danny was well on his way to making his first million.

"Never seen anyone quite like you," Scott smiled, pushing the glass of fine malt across the table in the study towards him. "You've got something, Danny. You're a natural."

Danny took the glass and sipped the rich, warming alcohol, feeling it glide down his throat and heat his blood. He settled back in the green leather armchair and looked at the man opposite. Scott Cameron. Smooth con man, dark-haired and dashing with one of the best covers going. Danny'd known him for eight months now and he'd learned so much about strategy and people and planning.

"Mean it," Scott nodded. "You have vision, you have imagination and you are going to be _amazing._"

Scott didn't give praise lightly and his words warmed Danny as much as the whisky.

"But."

Danny laughed at the caveat. _"_But..?_"_

"But," Scott smiled. "You need to find yourself a good detail man. That's where you're lacking. Great ideas. Fantastic ideas. Ideas that few others would dream of dreaming. You need to find someone who sees the shape of what you're seeing, who can fill in the gaps and join the dots and _fly_ with you."

Danny rolled the whisky glass around his hand, letting the firelight catch the tawny colour.

"A partner?" he murmured.

Scott tilted his head on one side. "Just choose wisely, Danny. Find someone as fabulous as you."

* * *

Three weeks later, as Danny was thrown out of Darnell Thornton's air-conditioned limo into desert wasteland, it briefly crossed his mind that Scott had a point.

It wasn't that the overall plan to defraud Darnell of his exceptional collection of Elizabethan miniatures was a bad one. It had never been done before but that was never going to stop Danny. It was the finer details that had thwarted him. Finer details that meant that instead of travelling back home with the prize in his pocket, he was rolling in dust and dirt in the middle of somewhere between Mexico and Texas.

He wasn't alone.

Amos Watson was with him. Amos was nearly forty and responsible for the nearly job they had just completed and nowhere near the partner Danny was hoping for.

"Sorry, kid," Amos said, spitting dust. "Guess they change the alarm codes twice a week."

Danny sighed. Pointless crying over spilt miniatures. Unless maybe they were from a mini-bar.

"Shit happens," he said generously.

Amos smiled at him. "You're being kind."

Danny looked round at cloudless blue sky and horizon that was pretty much interchangeable. "Let's head that way."

"Any reason?"

"S'bluer."

And as he started walking, he could tell without looking that Amos was squinting, trying to work out whether he meant it.

* * *

That way eventually became a town. A little town in the middle of nowhere. The sort of town that Clint would be striding through and making sure no one laughed at his mule.

Darnell had relieved them of their wallets and their watches and Danny sat down with Amos on the steps of a bar. The only bar, in fact.

"Think there's a telephone close by?"

Danny shrugged and looked round. "I'm not certain there's a _car_ near by."

"What do we do?"

He looked at Amos and patted his knee. "We go make friends."

* * *

Making friends was Danny's specialty.

Amos found himself with a beer in his hand and a plate of quesadillas in front of him, sitting round a table in the bar with three men who were laughing and he nodded across at Danny with a smile. Danny was laughing with the men and it was getting on for evening now and Amos could only hope that one of the jokes was around where they were going to sleep for the night.

A good night's sleep. That's what was needed after all the tension and adrenaline earlier when Darnell's men had caught them and all the bone-aching weariness of walking through the set of a Western. Then they would be able to ask questions and work out where they were and beg a phone call or a lift and be on their way back to civilisation.

A young girl came into the bar. No more than seventeen for a guess. Dark hair, dark eyes and simply stunning. She bought a bottle of whisky and walked back out again and Amos realised he probably hadn't blinked for a while. His glance slid to Danny, bottle of beer halfway to his lips, eyes wide and staring after her, and he knew that the girl had made an impression on him too.

He glanced at Manny, sitting next to him with a knowing smile.

"She's pretty, right?" Manny smirked.

The words broke the spell and Danny turned round in his seat.

"Who is she?" Danny asked and Manny and the others looked at each other and laughed.

"Just one glimpse and you got it bad," Manny grinned. He sobered up. "Her name's Teresa. And you'd better forget any ideas about her, my friend."

There was a moment and then Danny's face broke into a broad smile and there was conversation and there was more beer and Teresa wasn't mentioned again.

* * *

Manny's sister had a spare room. Nothing fancy, nothing special but clean and if Manny's friends wanted to stay, they could. No hanky panky. No making advances either. And Amos and Danny stood and thanked them and solemnly promised both Manny and his sister that they would behave like gentlemen.

As they freshened up, they ran through options.

"We can phone Scott," Amos suggested as he towelled his hair dry. "He'll sort out someone to come and pick us up."

"Yeah." Danny grimaced. He wanted to keep Scott out of this. "We should check to see what else there is."

"Stagecoach?" Amos quipped and Danny laughed.

"Feels like there ought to be, doesn't there? Don't think this place even had the one horse." He looked out of the window. "I'm going to do a quick recce. Meet you at the bar in half an hour."

* * *

The centre of town didn't take half an hour to recce: there was a scattering of shops and various cars and trucks that even in the dusklight looked like they'd seen better days. Danny rounded a corner on the way back to the bar and managed to bump into someone, knock them over and catch them before they fell. It was Teresa.

"Sorry about that," he smiled, righting her. "I didn't see you."

She stood and hesitated for a moment and then said, "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

Her voice was low and fluttery and there was real fear in there.

"Well, we're not really talking as such," Danny said and his voice was gentle and soft and not threatening in the extreme. "More exchanging pleasantries. And if I tell you my name, I won't be a stranger any more, will I?"

Brown eyes stared up at him as if they were trying to work through the logic of what he was saying.

"I'm Danny."

"Teresa." And it was almost a whisper. "My name is Teresa."

And then she obviously felt she'd said enough and bolted like a startled colt. Danny stood and watched her go and frowned after her.

* * *

Amos was waiting for him outside the bar.

"Well?" Amos asked as Danny sat down.

Danny's smile was immediate. "Let's just say we're unlikely to find anything of professional interest."

Once inside, Manny and their new friends from earlier beckoned them over and with the mood relaxed and welcoming, Amos and Danny worked at picking up easy money with proposition bets. Proposition bets were a conman's best friend. Fun little wagers that resulted in cash or drinks and _still_ kept marks on side and friendly.

Conversation flowed freely. People were interested in the men whose car had broken down in the middle of nowhere and who had happened upon their town. They were a news item.

They soon established there was no stagecoach. Public transport was limited to a bus once a week to the nearest city. The bus was due the day after tomorrow.

"We can wait," Amos suggested to Danny in a low tone. "I mean if we have a choice."

"Always a choice," Danny corrected. "And two days is too-"

Danny broke off as the door to the bar opened and a middle-aged man walked in, conversations stilling as he did so. Behind him, eyes on the floor as she followed, came Teresa.

Talk started up again, a low buzz as the man took up a place at the back of the room, Teresa sitting down on a chair behind him, hands resting in her lap, her head bowed.

"His name's Travers," Manny explained as the barman took a bottle of whisky over to the new arrival.

"What's the connection with Teresa?" Danny asked, reluctantly turning back to the table.

"He's her stepfather. Kind of," Manny qualified. "Hooked up with her mother a couple of years ago and when her mother died, he kept Teresa around."

"As what?" Amos frowned.

Manny was silent but his eyes spoke volumes and Danny's fingers tightened on his bottle of beer. He sat half-round in his chair again and he saw Travers lounging in his chair, glass of whisky poured. Sitting as though he was waiting for someone, for something…

A young man peeled off from a group at the bar and sat down opposite Travers. Danny couldn't help but stare. There was a look of expectation on the young man's face as he pulled a wad of notes and put it on the table beside him. Travers smiled and matched the cash. And then cards appeared and a language which Danny was very familiar with began to be spoken.

"Danny?" Amos's voice was questioning and he turned back to the group.

"So." Danny reached over and picked up Manny's red disposable lighter and upturned an empty beer bottle on to it. "Who thinks it's possible to remove the lighter without touching the bottle?"

* * *

He'd gone up for a round of drinks, ostensibly to show that he and Amos weren't bad guys who didn't know how to share. In truth, it was more about curiosity and vantage points and in the bar mirror, he could see the game in progress. The money seemed to be fast disappearing from Travers' side of the table and into a central pot. With an exclamation of triumph, Travers' opponent lay down his hand and Danny turned round in time to see Travers tip his whisky glass in the direction of the victor.

There seemed to be some sort of question asked and answered in a heartbeat and then Travers was reaching over to the pot and handing back a fraction of it and the man opposite was on his feet and reaching out his hand.

"Teresa!" Travers barked and as if awaking from a dream, Teresa stood up and placed her hand in the other man's and dutifully followed him through a door at the back of the bar.

Danny blinked. Part of him wanted to deny that he'd witnessed what he'd just witnessed.

"Every night," said Manny at his side. "Every night, he plays cards and if he wins, he wins and if he loses, he wins." He lifted the fresh bottles of beer off the side as the barman pulled the dollars from Danny's outstretched fingers. "She's the prettiest girl in town. Of course, she's gonna be popular."

That night, Danny lay on the same bed as a snoring Amos and stared at the ceiling and couldn't get the thought of Teresa out of his mind.

* * *

"We can wait for the bus," Danny announced to a bleary-eyed Amos the next morning. "Another day or so here's not going to be life-changing."

"Fair enough," Amos nodded. He was easy-going. Whatever Danny wanted. He'd only worked with Danny on the Darnell Thornton job but Danny had been remarkably easy-going too.

All of which meant that the slowly-building tension within Danny caught Amos by surprise. They wandered round the town and Amos took Danny's point about the distinct lack of prospective marks. All the time, Danny seemed to be on edge as if he were anticipating Darnell's men to reappear.

"They won't come after us," Amos said after Danny's head had snapped round at an unexpected noise for the third time. "If they were that serious, we would be dead already."

Danny flashed him a smile and didn't say a word and seemed to settle down and Amos thought he should be grateful for that. But by the time they sat down in the bar that evening, the tension seemed to be at a fever pitch. Except that when Travers and Teresa walked in, the tightness in Danny rose impossibly higher.

"Calm down, kid," Amos muttered. "You're wound up tighter than a drum."

"Sorry," Danny said and took a long drink and Amos watched him not watching the man and the girl.

* * *

It was a similar pattern to the previous night. Travers was challenged by one of the bar's patrons and played cards and lost. And again, Danny watched as he sold his daughter. Step-daughter. Whatever. Handed her over as if she were his to dispose of and something deep inside of Danny rebelled at the sight. No one belonged to another in that way. His jaw set tightly and he saw Teresa disappearing through the door and he was half out of his seat when Manny laid a firm hand on his shoulder, keeping him in his place.

"Let it go," Manny said. "See those boys at the bar?"

Danny's gaze flickered over to the group of five men about his age.

"They won't take kindly if you interfere."

"Danny…" Amos's face was troubled.

And Danny hesitated for a long moment because he wasn't on his own and that meant a degree of responsibility that he couldn't ignore. He took a deep breath and gave a terse nod and pushed his instincts deep down and far away.

* * *

"You thinking about that girl, right?" Amos said as they walked back to their lodgings. "It's horrible. It's just awful."

They walked on in silence for a while.

"Bus is at 11 o'clock tomorrow," Amos went on. "We should be back home by nightfall."

Danny said nothing.

* * *

The town was still and cold and quiet at dawn. Danny watched as the back door to the bar opened and Teresa slipped out. He crossed the street and walked alongside her.

"Oh!" Small and startled and she stopped and stared, wide-eyed.

"S'OK," Danny smiled. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I'm not supposed to talk to-"

"-strangers, no, I know. But you know me, Teresa. My name is Danny. We met the other day, remember?"

She didn't cry out. She didn't make a move. She stood and stared and then she nodded slowly and continued walking.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently.

"Yes," she nodded.

His glance fell on the mark on her neck and his lips tightened. They walked on and Teresa's hand disappeared into her pocket, pulling out a little bundle of rags and wool and turning it over and over in her hands.

Danny was trying to think of the best way to say what he wanted to say. He'd had a dozen different openings to this conversation and none of them seemed quite right.

He was still thinking when Teresa announced, "This is my house."

They were stood outside a back gate and opportunity had been and gone.

"Teresa," Danny plunged in, desperately, "what Travers is making you do, it's immoral. It's exploitation in the very worst sense-"

"Do you like my doll?" she asked suddenly and passed him the bundle of rags and wool. "Her name's Anna. I made her myself."

He looked down stupidly at the homemade toy, a lump of wood running through the middle of it with a face crudely painted on. Then he looked up at another face, a face incapable of artifice and at eyes that trusted on sight and at a girl who didn't even understand there was anything wrong with what she was being forced to do.

"Well, Anna's quite lovely," he told her, handing her back.

Teresa smiled at him and Danny swallowed and began again.

"When Travers takes you to the bar. When he plays cards." He saw her smile wobble a little. "When the men take you away for the night-"

"I have to," she said at once with the air of one who has had the words drummed into her. "Travers looks after me. I owe him."

"No," Danny said patiently. "Travers is using you. He's…Teresa, there is a better life for you out there than this. How old are you?"

"Seventeen and a half," she said proudly.

"There is a better life for you, I promise. A life without Travers where you don't have to do anything you don't want to do, where you can be safe and well. Where you can be having fun like teenagers should."

Teresa stared at him and there was a wistful kind of hope in her eyes that encouraged him to speak further.

"Teresa, there's a world just waiting for you-"

"-with snow?"

"What?" The non-sequitur threw him.

"I saw a magazine once with a house and trees and a lake and there was snow…"

"All of that," he said eagerly. "All of that. There's colour and wonder and so much to take your breath away and so much to see…"

He dived impulsively through description after description of New England in the Fall and the bright lights of Vegas and Manhattan skyscrapers and subway trains and shops full of anything and everything…

Words died away and he stood and looked at her, lovely and alone, not knowing better, maybe _never_ knowing better… He wanted to say more, so much more about freedom and choice-

"I've got to go," she said abruptly and Danny found himself looking at a closed door.

* * *

"You're not coming with me?" Amos exclaimed as he was about to get on the bus.

"S'right," Danny told him.

"But, _Danny_-"

"Something I want to check out."

"It's that girl, isn't it?" Amos said with insight that Danny wouldn't have credited him with.

"Just something I need to check out," Danny said again. He clapped Amos on the shoulder and smiled, polite, formal, distant and Amos was already in his past. "Good working with you, Amos."

"Maybe we can hook up again?" Hopeful.

"Maybe." Maybe not.

The bus disappeared into the distance and Danny stood and watched it go. It was going to be a long wait until evening.

* * *

He didn't hesitate. Travers sat down, his whisky was brought over and Danny left Manny and the others and swung himself into the seat opposite, not looking once at Teresa, not daring to look in case he was overwhelmed with fury and couldn't function.

"Hey!"

There was an indignant cry from whoever's turn it was at the bar but Travers saw the notes in Danny's hand and waved the whoever away.

"My money good enough?" Danny asked and Travers grinned.

He wasn't grinning a short time later. The pile of money in front of Danny was significant. Danny hadn't wasted time. He'd been his usual subtle self in avoiding detection but the sight of Travers, his eyes gleaming with avarice, turned his stomach and he needed to make this quick.

"You win," Travers said shortly and Danny waited.

Nothing.

"What you waiting for?" Travers asked, his manner surly. "Take the money and get out of here."

Danny's eyes moved for the first time that evening to Teresa, sitting in the chair, her hands in her lap.

"No," Travers told him.

Danny pursed his lips and then picked up the cash.

"Why not?" Danny asked mildly, as he gently riffled the money.

Travers stared as if hypnotised. Then he reached out and took hold of the notes.

"Why not?" he agreed.

Danny's money was good enough.

Travers gestured and Teresa stood up. Danny was already on his feet. Her hand slipped into his and he led the way blindly out through the back of the bar, only realising as he did so that he had no idea where he was headed.

* * *

Danny stopped in front of the choice of doors and hesitantly, Teresa opened one of them and waited. Taking a deep breath, Danny stepped through and into a room with a double bed and a basin and nothing else. He sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress thin and the bed linen worn and his heart told his head to shut up with the suggestion that he could have thought the details through a little more.

"Danny…"

It was soft and unsure and he looked up to see Teresa standing in laced undershirt and petticoats.

"No, oh, _no_," he breathed and reached up and took her hands and pulled her down beside him.

"No," he said again gently as she sat and stared at him in confusion and he tried not to look at the mark on her neck. "I don't…I'm not…Teresa, I just want you safe for the night."

The confusion didn't leave her face and he sighed.

"I just want you safe," he corrected himself quietly and added, "not just for tonight."

"Safe?" she repeated as if it were an alien concept.

"Come away with me," Danny said in a low and eager voice. "Let me take you away from this."

Her eyes dropped down to where their hands were linked. "It's not…I can't…"

It was too much. He was asking too much, too fast. The girl hadn't even known him before two days ago. With a sigh, he lay down on the bed and she immediately curled up beside him, her body moulding into his.

"You don't want to?" she whispered and her voice was trembling.

He felt the warmth and the smooth skin and the hair, fanned against his cheek and he swallowed hard.

"Teresa, let's just try and get some rest, shall we?"

She nodded against his shoulder and then whispered, "Is it like this in the other life?"

For a moment, he didn't understand. For a moment, he thought she meant the after life. And then he realised. The other life. The life he'd talked about.

"It's like this," he said immediately. "No one has to do anything they don't want to."

"And there is-"

"-and there is snow," he smiled, "cold and white and bright. Some days it's so cold you can see your breath in the air."

"Really?"

"Really."

He talked softly about all the things she wanted to know about and he felt her slipping away into sleep. His arm tightened around her and he lay, full of so many things unuttered. He looked down at the dark lashes against her pale cheek and he thought about the life that was hers and he wanted to keep her there in his arms forever. He fell asleep and dreamed of the impossible.

* * *

In the morning, he woke up to find Teresa dressing. And the need to grab her hand and start running flooded through him. What was actually going to _happen _the other side…well, they'd cross that bridge…

"You thought about what I said?" he asked urgently.

She hesitated and nodded.

"And?"

"And I have to go," she said. "I must cook breakfast for Travers when he wakes."

He was losing her. He was losing her and he didn't know why. Whether it was the light of dawn or the fear of change, she was trying her best not to meet his eyes. Suddenly, nothing was more important than making her see he meant what he said.

"Teresa…"

"I have to go, Danny," she said again and he stood up quickly and took her hand.

"Meet me at the back of your house at twelve," Danny told her. "Please."

She said nothing and she promised nothing but her eyes were troubled.

* * *

Twelve o'clock came.

The hotwired car's engine was idling. Danny watched the gate.

The gate didn't open.

* * *

There'd been no sign of Teresa in the town. Danny felt like breaking down the gate and arguing the point with Travers but he told himself to wait. There had to be better opportunities. And now, it was early evening and he was back at the bar, sat at the bar, ignoring Manny who had tried to wave him over. He sat waiting for Travers and Teresa to appear.

"Back again?"

Danny turned to see one of the men who had beaten Travers at cards. His fingers tightened on the bottle of beer in his hand.

"Don't get any ideas, stranger," the man went on. "It's Clem's turn tonight."

There was jeery laughter and Clem stood with a smirk on his face and the man turned back to his cronies, Danny forgotten.

"You know the best thing about fucking Teresa, Clem?" the man was asking. "You don't have to whisper sweet nothings to her. You don't have to whisper nothing to her. She don't understand none of that."

Another one of them guffawed. "That's 'cos I fucked her brains out last week."

Danny was off the bar stool and his fist was pulled back and his other arm was reaching out to swing the man round and to punch and hit and hurt and-

Strong arms wrapped themselves round him and he found himself helpless and being pulled backwards. He struggled and struggled but there was no let up until he was sat down at a table and staring at Scott.

"Thank you, Malcolm," Scott said mildly. "That will be all."

Malcolm nodded and retreated a step or two. Danny continued staring.

"Where the hell did you-" He broke off, sensing that Scott was waiting for him to get it. "Ahhh...Amos."

"Amos," Scott agreed. "He was worried about you."

"He needn't have been. _You_ needn't be."

"But I am. Especially when I hear that you are caught up in something so ridiculous as local affairs."

Danny's fingers clenched into fists. "Ridiculous?" he repeated, his voice dangerously soft.

"It happens all over the world," Scott pointed out. "Really, Danny, you need to toughen up."

"I'm not leaving her here," Danny told him.

It was Scott's turn to stare. "You're going to take her away from all this and then what? You cut her loose and she'll be on the streets within a day. She doesn't know any different."

"Then I don't cut her loose," Danny said. "I keep her close."

The disbelief was ripe in Scott's face. "But you can't...Danny..."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and opened them again, looking straight at Scott. Fixing him with every ounce of what he was feeling.

"I can't let this go, Scott. And you're not the man I think you are if you can. If you can look at beauty in misery, at a life that is no life, at someone so very vulnerable and do nothing. Help me, Scott, if you want to. If you don't want to, then just leave."

There was a flicker in Scott's eyes and then he dropped his gaze and sighed. "Where is she?"

Timing was everything. The door opened and Travers and Teresa entered.

"Leave this to me," Scott said and before Danny could stop him, he'd crossed the floor and stood in front of Travers, full of smiles and glad hands.

Danny watched the conversation, watched Travers glance over to him and back again, watched Scott spinning his web of words, watched Teresa standing pale-faced behind Travers, watched the gang at the bar watching everything.

And then, Scott shook Travers by the hand and Danny was halfway out of his seat but Scott was walking back to him.

"That's it," Scott said briskly and nodded at Malcolm.

"That's what?" Danny asked sharply as Malcolm stepped outside the bar.

"Teresa is coming back with us."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Over Scott's shoulder, Danny saw Malcolm return with a briefcase and hand it to Travers.

"We're _buying_ her?" he hissed.

"Technically, _I'm_ buying her," Scott told him. "But consider her yours."

He didn't bother trying to disguise the horror on his face and a flash of anger appeared on Scott's.

"It's the way of the world, Danny. Sometimes you have to roll with it."

He'd rolled with it. For Teresa.

She hadn't understood. Not really. But he'd smiled at her and talked gently and she'd climbed in the car next to him and as scenery swept past, she squeezed his hand and whispered, "Is this the other life?"

"It's the start of it," he promised and she nodded, trusting.

* * *

Back at Scott's and Teresa had fallen asleep in the car. Danny carried her in and laid her down carefully on the couch.

"Here," Scott pushed a glass of whisky into his hand. "Reckon you need it. If you don't, I sure as hell do."

Danny took the drink and looked over at Scott, arms folded and face troubled, his eyes on the sleeping Teresa.

"So, Danny, what now?"

A place of safety. Security. Some form of education. Some…something… Danny frowned, suddenly exhausted, his brain hurting.

"Danny…" Scott sighed. "Details, remember?"

He remembered. He wiped his hand over his face and tried to force himself to think.

"Sam Rybeck," Scott said at last. "Retired fence. He and his wife, Jessie, always used to have a horde of kids around their place. Like an unofficial adoption agency. It's been a few years and Sam and Jessie are getting on a bit now but…I reckon they'd take her in."

"If you had a word," Danny finished the sentence heavily. "Scott, I didn't mean for you-"

"No," Scott broke in with a tired smile. "No, I know you didn't."

* * *

Sam and Jessie were in their sixties and now lived without the many children that Scott remembered but their fostering instincts were still strong. Danny liked them at once.

"We'll look after her," Sam promised Scott and Danny.

"Come on in, Teresa," Jessie invited. "Let me show you your room."

Teresa looked over at Danny and he smiled encouragingly. He'd explained already that this was the start of the other life. A new place to stay, a school to enrol in, a new life to live.

"_With you?" she'd asked timidly and he'd explained no and her face had fallen but she'd quickly smiled._

Danny had walked away that day with a light heart. The next day, Scott had mentioned a museum in Tulsa and Danny had disappeared for three months, absorbed by the job.

* * *

Three months later, success running through him, Danny had decided to pay a call to see how Teresa was doing. Sam and Jessie had been welcoming and had given him a positive report on Teresa. Helpful around the house, delighting in the trips to the mall with Jessie, had fun picking things out for her room...

"How's she getting on at school?"

The Rybecks looked at each other.

"OK…I guess," Sam said. "She doesn't talk much about it."

"Her teachers are pleased with her," Jessie said quickly. "She's a few classes behind where she should be, of course, but she's concentrating and she's paying attention."

Well, that all sounded good.

"What about friends?"

There was that exchange of looks again.

"We've asked a couple of times," Jessie said eventually. "I think she's keeping herself to herself at the moment."

Huh.

"Thanks," Danny smiled and excused himself.

* * *

The school was a little way away and it was lunch hour. Danny wandered in and mixed with the other students. He was only a couple of years older but he felt his age so much more. The snatches of conversation that he overheard had slang that was a foreign language. The hairstyles were unfamiliar and the clothes the boys were wearing…the clothes the _girls_ were wearing… It was like another country.

He kept moving, smiling at those he passed, not letting anyone have the opportunity to challenge him. He scoured the grounds for Teresa. Nothing. He went into the cafeteria and stared at table after table. No sign of her. The corridors were long and empty and Danny was running out of options.

He found himself in a quieter part of the school and he sat down on the stairs. This was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous. He should go back to the Rybecks and wait for Teresa. She'd be home soon enough. Then, he could talk to her and-

"Jon-ny…" The whine came from the next flight up. "You said it was _my_ turn."

"Plenty of time, man. Not like she's going anywhere, is it?"

Slowly, Danny got to his feet.

"I guess…but, Jon-ny…"

Slowly, his feet took him up the stairs.

"Look, Dex must be nearly finished. When he comes out, maybe you can go in."

Stair after stair.

"You think?" Joy in the voice. "Just I really-"

Stair after stair.

"-yeah, yeah. We all really could." A new voice. "Not like Lyle and I couldn't."

He reached the top of the flight and stood outside a classroom, there were four of them, seniors, eighteen year old boys trying to look like men. They hadn't seen him.

"She's the way a girl should be," one of them declared, "easy on the eye and just easy."

They all sniggered.

"Gentlemen," Danny said, investing his voice with authority and they all jumped a mile. "What's going on here?"

"Fuck," one of them – Jonny – muttered and slammed a fist on the classroom door.

"Gentlemen," Danny repeated and they quivered as they would in front of a teacher. "_What's_ going on?"

The classroom door opened and another boy – Dex – appeared, hurriedly fastening his pants. Danny looked over his shoulder and…

"_It's not what it looks like, sir…"_

Unhappiness.

"_We haven't done anything wrong."_

Misery.

"_She's willing, sir."_

Danny turned and punched the nearest boy out. Then he continued to punch blindly until those he was hitting had enough sense to run away.

* * *

Somehow, Sam Rybeck had gotten involved and he'd bailed him out and Danny had only half-listened to his soft words of explanation and excuse to the authorities about his nephew who'd undoubtedly got the wrong end of the stick.

The journey back to the Rybecks was silent despite Sam's attempts to start a conversation. All Danny could think of was Teresa's pale face and her eyes that didn't even accuse him of the betrayal he felt. She'd looked as she had sitting behind Travers. As if this was the way things were and she had to play along.

Jessie was waiting for them and she'd been crying.

"Teresa's up in her room," she began and Danny started towards the stairs.

She laid a hand on his shoulder.

"We didn't know," she said in a low voice. "Sam and I...Teresa told me that the boys came on to her pretty strong. I think they must try that with all the pretty new girls. Just that Teresa..."

Just that Teresa hadn't known how to handle it like other girls. Hadn't been able to give as good as she got or to laugh it off.

It wasn't the Rybecks' fault, Danny told himself. Only one person to blame here. He patted Jessie's hand and went and knocked on Teresa's door. There wasn't any answer and he knocked again and then opened it.

Teresa was standing by the window and she'd been crying.

"Oh, Teresa," he said and there was heartache in his voice.

Somehow, she was in his arms and he was holding her tightly and telling her over and over and over that he was sorry, that he didn't mean for any of this to happen...

"I thought you said it was different," she said into his shoulder and there was still no blame, no accusation, nothing except a forlornness that ate at Danny.

"It will be, Teresa. It will be. I promise."

* * *

Scott had found out, of course.

"Danny, tell me what the hell you think you're doing?"

The voice at the other end of the phone was tense and more than a little anxious.

"I'm doing what I should have done in the first place, Scott."

"Look, I found out what happened at the damn school. It was unfortunate-"

_"Unfortunate?"_

"Poor choice of word. Sorry. What I mean is that there are other places, other people-"

"No."

"Danny, you can't tie yourself down to looking after her!"

"Watch me."

He'd snapped the phone shut and he'd smiled over at Teresa as she danced around the Vermont house with delight.

"We're staying here? Really?"

"Really," Danny said firmly.

* * *

The house was one of two standing empty, situated in front of a lake, the sandy beach leading up to the back of it. There was a verandah overlooking the water and there was peace. Quiet. A whole separate little world where they could live off Danny's accumulated money and not worry for a while.

He took her travelling. To see the bright lights of Vegas and to meet Reuben who was charming and made Teresa laugh with various stories of a younger Danny. To see the magnificence of Manhattan, the Florida Keys, the Great Lakes... Always, always, they came back to the house in Vermont that he wanted her to call home.

Scott called again. More than once. Pleading with Danny to come back to the con.

"Danny, it's in your blood. You're a natural. You can't just give it all up because of some-"

"-some _what_, Scott?" he asked sharply.

"Some pie-eyed romantic dream of chivalry! Danny, listen to me, I know what I'm talking about. You're twenty-one, you're no age and it's not like the girl's family. You don't owe her a damn thing!"

"I owe her the other world!" Danny said fiercely and incomprehensibly and hung up.

* * *

Teresa accepted. Everything. She had a child's belief and trust and wonder and innocence and seeing her laugh was magical to Danny. It was like the world was a box of delights that he was showing her.

Simple things like cotton candy thrilled her.

She'd stopped dead in front of Macy's, her eyes wide and buying the porcelain doll in the silk dress – christened "Lulu" - had been his pleasure.

Winter found her laughing outside as the snowflakes tumbled down.

She accepted that he was with her now. And after the very first night, when she'd offered herself and he'd squeezed the pain out of his face and told her gently no, she'd accepted that things were not the same as with Travers.

"Thank you," she said once and he smiled at her.

"For what?"

"For buying me." Matter-of-fact.

She hugged him and Danny stroked her hair and bit back on the tears.

* * *

Late summer and Reuben had come visiting. They'd eaten and there had been a simple meal and soft laughter and Teresa was now making coffee in the kitchen.

"She's a beautiful girl," Reuben said, chewing on a cigar and leaning up against the verandah railing beside Danny.

"Yeah."

She was.

"You doing anything about that?" Reuben asked casually.

Danny turned his head and glared at him. They weren't sleeping together. And if Danny lay some nights and tried not to think about Teresa in that way, well, it was just the way it was. An exquisite kind of purgatory.

"No." Short and pointed.

Reuben chewed on the cigar some more and there was a look in his eyes that Danny couldn't fathom.

"You plannin' on doing anything about that?"

"Reuben…"

"Why not?"

Danny straightened up and he was shaking his head and dismissing but Reuben laid a hand on his arm.

"Look, kid, you're twenty-two. You've got your life ahead of you-"

And now Reuben sounded like Scott. Danny shook free of Reuben's hand. He didn't want to listen to this.

"Danny." The hand was back on his shoulder and Reuben was looking at him and asking him with the weight of so many years' friendship and acquaintance to listen to him. "Danny. If I'm right, you're not thinking of ditching Teresa any time soon. So if she's going to be part of your life, why don't you make her part of your life?"

He stared at Reuben, hearing what Reuben was saying.

"Why not?" Reuben said again, softly and took him by the elbow and turned him round to see Teresa walking towards them, carrying a tray of coffee; her eyes were bright and shining and when they lit on Danny, they lit up further.

Why not indeed?

* * *

Stumbling and awkward in a way he never was, he'd asked her and Teresa had smiled up at him, like she would never stop.

They'd married in Vegas.

"You may kiss the bride."

Their first kiss. Their first proper kiss. No longer chaste or comforting, a proper kiss. And Danny was lost for a moment in soft lips and sweetness.

Reuben was their only witness.

"Congratulations, kids," he grinned at them. "I got the honeymoon suite at the Xanadu lined up. Champagne on ice. Go enjoy."

"Thanks, Reuben," Danny said sincerely.

When they'd reached the Xanadu and Danny had removed the "Just Married" banner from across the door and Teresa had squealed at the meal laid out for them…when it was later and there was just the two of them, Danny reached across and stroked her cheek.

"Teresa, we don't have to…I mean, this isn't about…we can just carry on like before…"

She frowned at him in incomprehension and given his level of inarticulateness, he really wasn't surprised.

"We don't have to sleep together," he said, desperately blunt and trying not to think about the kiss.

"Husbands and wives do though," she said with confidence. "And we're married now."

Danny swallowed, his resolution wavering because if they did, if they ever did, he'd told himself he would make damn sure she understood sex was supposed to be mutually pleasurable.

"Look, I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do."

She frowned again.

"But I want to," she said simply and he surrendered and let her take him by the hand and lead him to the bed.

* * *

Back in Vermont and the doorbell rang. Danny found a lady in her sixties smiling up at him and holding a black kitten.

"Morning. Felicity Hudson. Your new neighbour. This here's Canute."

"Danny Ocean. Pleased to meet you both."

"Sorry to trouble you, Danny – is it alright to call you Danny? – well, Danny, I wonder if you can help me. Having a spot of trouble with the plumbing. Wonder if you wouldn't mind taking a look."

"Plumbing?" Danny said slowly.

"Yes. Cistern, I shouldn't wonder. Something's not right."

The look on his face must have given him away.

"Oh, kid, you look like you know less about plumbing than I do," she grinned. "Well, in that case, maybe you have the number of a man who can."

He'd invited her in for coffee and the coffees had become regular. Felicity was the widow of a schoolteacher and she was funny and practical and shrewd and kind-hearted.

"Your wife's a beautiful person," she said softly one day as Teresa lay on the floor playing with Canute.

"She's very special to me."

"Yes, I can see that," Felicity said looking at him thoughtfully. "I see that in the way you look at her and the way you talk to her. And it's not a possessive thing either. Come across that before. This is all about her. I'd say you're pretty special too, Danny."

Felicity understood. She understood about Teresa and Danny's need to protect. And when the money started running out and Danny started thinking about earning some more, he went to see her.

"Thing is, Felicity, I need to travel with my job and there are going to be times when I'm not around-"

"You want me to look after her? Of course, I will," Felicity beamed.

Of course, she would. Of course, she did.

Explaining to Teresa that he had to go away was trickier.

"But why can't I come?" was the question he heard most often. Along with "Where are you going?" and "How long will you be away?".

He called her regularly. He listened to her day and he told her he loved her. And he told himself that he was forgiven for being away from her side.

* * *

Danny didn't go back to Scott. No approaches to any of the people he'd worked with either. He started back where he'd begun, on his own and short cons that meant that he wasn't away from Teresa for too long.

Abstinence hadn't taken away his genius. It hadn't taken away his reflexes or his instincts or his skills. And now that he was allowing it to function unfettered, his mind started sparking ideas and fuelled the desire to work on bigger and more daring projects. Projects that he couldn't fulfil on his own.

Meeting Rick was unexpected in every way. They'd been committing separate but similar and certainly simultaneous thefts from a college. There'd been an unfortunate sighting by a night watchman with a large dog and Danny had run, heart pounding, and vaguely aware of the fellow thief running along side him. Danny had thrown himself at the wall and then offered his hand to help the other man up. After that, there'd been more running until pursuit had finally given up.

He'd stood under a tree, breathing hard and the man opposite him was doing the same.

"Thanks," said the other man between pants.

"S'OK," Danny waved away the gratitude. "Someone'll do the same for me one day."

"Rick Goodman." A hand was outthrust. "Let me buy you a drink."

Danny hesitated for a moment and then he looked up at frank blue eyes and a wide grin.

"Danny Ocean. And mine's a whisky."

He'd worked with Rick for six months before he'd brought him home to meet Teresa. Rick was nothing but respectful in her presence and Danny wondered why he'd worried. Fate or luck must have been looking out for him, the night he met Rick Goodman.

* * *

Rick had headed past him and through to the kitchen. Eduardo looked up from where he was sitting on the floor and saw Danny approaching, his eyes focused on Teresa. He crouched down beside her.

"It's good to see you," he said tenderly and she flung her arms round him and the embrace was long and full of love.

Eduardo averted his eyes and saw Rusty shutting the door. And Rusty looked as pale-faced and as much at a loss as Eduardo had ever seen him. Eduardo carefully put the miniature furniture down and stood up and crossed to his partner.

"You OK?" he asked in a concerned undertone.

"Yeah," Rusty said eventually. "Just that I've got some apologising to do."

* * *

A/N: So. This has been a long time coming and apologies for that but then again, it's been a long time in the writing. :D I hope...well, I hope many things but with this, I hope people are still interested in the story and that this reads OK. Thanks for reading.


	29. Settling

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: not mine, no way, no how.

A/N: just wanted to reply about Hemingford Grey. s.s. mentioned in a review about it being an alias that featured in a Batman story arc and I thought it behoved (behooved? Sounds rather Centauresque) me to explain where I found the name. I wish it was a Batman homage - that would be so much cooler that the actual. It's actually on a roadsign on the M11 on the way to Stansted Airport. *confesses* I drive an awful lot with my job and sometimes placenames just leap out at me as wonderful must use characters. Sorry. Rather prosaic origin. On plus side, have never yet been tempted to call anyone Give Way. :)

Chapter Twenty-nine: Settling

* * *

"You're back!"

The voice sounded almost as delighted as Teresa had been. Rusty looked up to see a white-haired woman with a weathered face beaming down at Danny from the top of the stairs.

"Felicity," Danny acknowledged with a smile. "Come on down and let me introduce you."

She was introduced as Felicity Hudson. Neighbour and friend with a no nonsense handshake and an air of shrewdness that made Rusty think that very little got past her.

"Colleagues," Danny said and Rusty wondered if the description was for Felicity's benefit or Teresa's.

Teresa. Rusty watched as she carefully put all the furniture away in the dolls house. So not what he'd been thinking. Danny's phone calls, the need to speak to her…the hesitation about bringing them into his house… Rusty felt the guilt about what he'd said - about what he'd _thought_ – flood through him.

He looked over to where Rick was stood, beer bottle in hand, leaning up against the wall by the kitchen door, watching him. Rick's face was blank but his eyes told Rusty that he knew and was enjoying Rusty's discomfort. Well, Rusty deserved that and more. And it wasn't like Rick _knew _what he'd said about Teresa, unless…unless Danny had told him… Rusty bit his lip and felt the burn of mortification at the very idea.

No. No. Rick wouldn't have been able to keep it to himself. There would have been digs or asides or something. He stared at Rick again. Rick seemed right at home. Obviously knew his way round. Obviously a frequent visitor. The only time he'd looked vaguely unsettled was when Felicity had acknowledged him with a polite but curt "Rick" and he'd mumbled a response and not met her eyes. Rusty wondered…

"Right." Felicity was taking charge. "I've made the beds up. Teresa and I can go and make dinner while you boys get your bags in from the car and relax. I'm sure you'd all like a beer."

There wasn't any particular emphasis. She wasn't looking anywhere near Rick and there was no castigation in her voice but Rusty saw Rick jerk upright as if she'd berated him loudly.

Danny caught Felicity's hand in his.

"Thanks," he said and there was so much in there and it seemed to Rusty to be about so much more than the practical.

Felicity flushed bright pink.

"Any time and you know it," she muttered.

* * *

"C'mon, kid, let's go and get the beers." Rick steered Ed towards the kitchen.

"Let's get the bags," Danny suggested without looking at Rusty and they headed out to the car.

They were on their own and he had to say something and he had to say it now.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out.

Danny's eyes were on the holdall he was pulling out of the trunk.

"What about?" Low and fierce.

Oh, _not_…

"About what I- damn it, Danny, look at me!"

Slowly, Danny straightened up and turned round and his eyes were locked off and his face was tight.

"Danny, I'm sorry for what I said about Teresa. About you and Teresa. I was so out of line, I couldn't even _see_ the line."

Urgent and open and honest and he stared desperately at Danny and willed him to believe him, to accept the apology.

Danny held his stare and gave nothing away, no hint of what he was thinking and Rusty couldn't read him at all.

"Two rooms on the right at the top of the stairs," Danny said finally and turned and walked back into the house.

* * *

Rusty closed the door in time to hear Danny say, "Teresa? Felicity?"

As the women arrived, Danny rummaged in his holdall and produced two carrier bags.

"Oh, Danny! A present!" Teresa sounded delighted. "What is it?"

"Take a look," he suggested.

She reached into the bag and pulled out a small pink fluffy dog and let out a little squeal.

"Dog needs a name," Danny prompted and a look of intense concentration appeared on Teresa's face.

"Eduardo," she said decisively and Rick had walked back in from the kitchen in time to hear her. He let out a snort and Teresa turned round at once.

"I like the name. Don't you think it's a good name?" she demanded.

"It's a great name," Rick agreed hastily and then looked over at Rusty and added with meaning, "Dog looks just like an Eduardo."

Rusty felt his hands clenching around the handles of the luggage he was carrying.

"Danny, you shouldn't have." Felicity was smiling too and holding a large bottle of expensive perfume. "This is wasted on an old woman like me."

"Felicity, you're ageless," Danny told her gallantly as Rusty climbed the stairs.

"Hey, Eduardo," he heard Rick calling out. "You got a namesake."

* * *

Rusty pushed open the door to the first bedroom that overlooked the front of the house and hit the lights. Dropping Ed's bag on the end of the bed, he looked round at clean cream walls and blue drapes, an old wooden wardrobe and an enormous picture of snow-covered mountains hanging above the bed. It seemed out of balance in the room and Rusty guessed it was maybe a wedding present that had found its home in a little-used room.

He turned the lights off and moved on to the next room. This one, by contrast to the minimalist lines of the first one, had shelves that were full of dolls and stuffed toys and other things… Rusty dropped his bag on the floor and curiously picked up a snowstorm. New York: the Statue of Liberty, a Big Apple and a yellow cab were surrounded by little white flakes. He stared at it for a moment and then carefully, he put it back where he'd found it.

* * *

Back down in the living area, Eduardo smiled brightly at him and pushed a beer into his hand.

"Danny said-"

"I said we have a little while before dinner," Danny cut across him. "Thought we could talk through tomorrow."

"Sounds good," Rusty nodded and there was no challenge, there was no argument and there was still the awkward and the apologetic there beneath the layers if you knew where to look.

Rick led them through to the couches at the back of the house.

"Hemingford Grey," Danny began without ceremony. "We have his address. We know he has Doug Quentin's Canaletto. We need more information."

"Recce his place," Rick said immediately. "We get a run out and look at the lie of the land."

"What about Hemingford himself?" Eduardo asked. "Rusty always says we find out more about the man and we'll find a way in."

"That's the way it works," Rick smiled, taking a swig of beer. "You remember that time in Stamford, Danny? With the butterfly collector? What was his name again?"

"Eddie Kendrick," Danny said, sitting back in his seat.

"I must have chased down a hundred butterflies," Rick laughed. "Then Danny pointed out we didn't actually _need_ the butterflies. We just had to let Kendrick think we had them. Couldn't have told me that sooner."

"We had a job like that in Calais," Eduardo said. "Fossil collector. I spent hours on a beach before Rusty said we just needed to create the illusion."

Rick and Eduardo continued down memory lane and neither seemed to notice that Hemingford Grey was no longer the subject of conversation and that neither Danny nor Rusty were contributing.

* * *

It had been a relief when Teresa appeared and announced that the meal was ready.

"Come on," she laughed and seized Rusty's hand. "We mustn't let it get cold!"

He allowed himself to be pulled up and tried to ignore the immediate tension he sensed in Danny.

"Teresa, honey…" Danny was there, stepping in between them, breaking the connection, taking her hand and leading her away. "Let's go and sit down."

* * *

Dinner found Danny at the head of the table, Teresa on his left, Rick on his right. Rusty sat next to Rick and looked across the table at Ed, saying something light and funny to Teresa.

The talk about the job before dinner had been awkward as hell. Danny hadn't been himself. He had been full of staccato sentences and he hadn't looked anywhere near Rusty. He'd sat back and let Rick run the discussion. Not that he, Rusty, had been any more forthcoming. Somehow, there was still something unsaid, something between Danny and himself and it needed to be sorted, it needed to be put right. And the way Danny had got in between him and Teresa…like he was worried about Rusty getting anywhere near his wife…he swallowed.

Rusty felt a hand press against his and surprised, he looked up to see Felicity on his other side smiling at him.

"You look like an interesting young man," she told him. "I pride myself on being able to identify this quality in people."

"Maybe I'm just faking," he said lightly.

"That would be interesting in itself," she smiled.

* * *

Felicity saved him at the dinner. She found out he'd lived in Europe and was suddenly full of questions about people and places and for the most part, Rusty had been soft and charming and able to keep his attention on her. That way he didn't have to look anywhere near Danny.

"Right. Let's clear the plates away and bring dessert in," Felicity said and as Teresa made to get to her feet, "no, no. You stay next to Danny. He hasn't seen you in a while. Rusty here can help me."

He took his cue and stood up and gathered together the crockery and cutlery and followed Felicity out to the kitchen.

"Now," Felicity said when they were on their own, "I can see you're ill at ease, young man, and I don't like seeing people uncomfortable." She frowned. "Is this about Teresa? Because-"

"It's not about her," he said hurriedly and then corrected himself, "it's not completely about her."

"She's-"

"-she's lovely," Rusty interrupted. "In every way."

He'd looked over a couple of times at the beautiful child-woman who was full of smiles and he'd cursed himself again for the hurtful words he'd thrown at Danny. Words that it didn't seem Danny was in a hurry to forget.

Felicity's eyes were sharp and on him and he was suddenly reminded of Saul at his most gimlet-fierce. He opened his mouth to deflect, to distract and instead found himself telling the truth.

"I said some things I shouldn't. Before we got here. Before…before."

Before he'd met Teresa.

"To Danny?"

He nodded.

"You apologised yet?"

He nodded again.

"Well, I can't see why Danny wouldn't accept that. I'm sure you didn't say whatever you said out of malice."

Not malice. But he'd wanted to hurt. He'd wanted to twist the knife in Danny like Danny had twisted the knife in him.

"It was wrong," Rusty said in a low voice. "And it's still wrong. And I don't know how to put it-"

He saw Felicity's eyes travel over his shoulder and he turned to see Danny in the doorway.

"Came in search of dessert," Danny explained. "Eduardo thought Rusty might have eaten it all."

"It's here," Felicity grabbed cheesecake and dishes and headed past Danny and back to the table.

Rusty made to follow her. He couldn't deal with Danny, brooding and unreadable. Danny's hand on his arm stopped him and drew him with him back into the kitchen.

"Look, it's not-"

Danny broke off and looked like he was trying to marshal his words. Rusty stared at him and glimpsed turmoil within.

"You coming, Danny?" Rick's voice floated through.

"We're there," Danny answered and still they stood, Danny's hand on his arm, Danny's eyes boring into his.

"Later," Danny said eventually, reluctantly and Rusty exhaled slowly and nodded.

* * *

Cheesecake was delicious and finished and Felicity pushed her chair back.

"Well, I have to be making tracks, everyone."

"I'll walk you over," Danny offered and Felicity shook her head.

"Not necessary. You have guests-"

"I'll walk you," Rusty said quietly and spontaneously and she smiled at him.

"Alright."

* * *

It was mostly about doing the right and polite thing and only partly about an escape. That's what he told himself and ignored the way he breathed easier once he was out of the house.

"Sort this out with Danny," Felicity said abruptly, linking her arm through his. "You tell him how you feel, he'll understand, I'm sure."

"Don't know if it's that easy," Rusty smiled. "We… I think I must have crossed the line badly."

Felicity peered at him through the moonlit darkness. "Keep trying, son. Danny's a good man. He's worth the effort."

They arrived at her front porch and she hesitated.

"Are you boys going to be working on something highly illegal and confidential that a silly old woman like me isn't supposed to know about?"

Rusty stared and she grinned.

"Oh, I know. Danny knows I know though we keep up the pretence that I don't. Anyway, reason I'm asking is that there are four of you. Strikes me you'll get on better if you have more than Danny's car to get around in."

Lines of gratitude and thank you and not to worry and that they could manage started to fall out of Rusty but Felicity was already striding towards the garage.

"There you go," she said, flinging the doors open and hitting the lights. "This is Bessie."

And Rusty gazed open-mouthed on the light blue mint condition Ford Mustang with deep and sudden love.

"She was my husband's," Felicity explained. "I don't drive her much but she's serviced regularly and runs like a dream. You can borrow her if you like."

Rusty found his voice.

"You're putting an awful lot of trust in someone you only met tonight. Especially someone who might be engaged in the highly illegal and confidential side of life."

"Anyone who talks about Rome with such love for the place has a soul and feeling," Felicity said. "And judging by the look on your face, you'll take good care of her."

"I will," he said fervently.

"Good. Come on inside and get the keys."

* * *

He wished Felicity a goodnight and stepped outside, staring down at the keys in his hand. The car was a classic. Already, he was thinking about a long stretch of road and opening her up-

"Hey."

Rusty looked up to see Danny standing at the foot of the steps.

"Teresa and the others are clearing away. Thought I'd come and find you."

He walked down the steps till he was at the bottom and facing Danny.

"Thought we could walk on the beach for a bit," Danny went on.

"Romantic stroll in the moonlight?"

Danny crooked a smile and then it vanished. "Want to clear the air," he said and held out a beer.

Rusty took it. "Well, I'm in favour."

* * *

Coming home to Teresa had been a cause of mixed emotions. On the one hand, he wanted to see her again. Time apart, especially so soon after time apart, was painful. But then there was the fact that he was bringing strangers home with him. Strangers who couldn't be relied on to behave like Rick.

Danny had felt his heart grow heavy every mile closer to Teresa they were. He thought about Rusty's words, cruel and designed to hurt and he'd thought about how Rusty might react to the reality of Teresa and he never, never wanted to expose Teresa to any kind of ridicule or mockery. Part of him could see Rusty's face twisting into a sneer and a few smart lines falling out of him and Danny couldn't bear it.

And then they'd arrived and…and Eduardo had been wonderful and immediate and accepting and Rusty had stood like he was in shock and Danny _knew_ this had been a mistake.

But Rusty had been all about the apology and the very words "I'm sorry" had brought out the defensive in Danny. Because pity was never going to be an option. Rusty had insisted and Danny hadn't been able to handle the earnest and the sincere. Somehow, it was easier to deal with a Rusty who didn't understand.

At dinner, he'd focused on Teresa. And then he'd overheard Rusty speaking to Felicity in the kitchen.

"_It was wrong. And it's still wrong."_

Guilt had flooded through him and he'd had to explain but cheesecake had gotten in the way. Now? Now, he'd got the opportunity.

They walked down to the beach and slowly along the shoreline towards Danny's house.

"The things you said," Danny began.

"Danny, I said I was-"

"Not those things," Danny interrupted. "I know you're sorry. I know you didn't mean…I know _why_ you said them. It was about me, not Teresa."

There was a silence.

"I'm sorry about that too," Rusty offered and Danny smiled.

"No, you're not. The words maybe but not the reason why you said them. You were trying to hurt me. Because I hurt you. Best form of defence."

Rusty opened and closed his mouth and settled for taking a swig of beer.

"The other things. The things about me not being everything I can be."

Danny's eyes were up at the stars and the moon.

"Oh, Danny…" Sorry but not sorry. Not sorry because…

"It's true," Danny said softly. "Scott…" He closed his eyes briefly and then opened them again. "Scott said once that I was going to be amazing." Danny smiled and then the smile faded. "He never really understood when I got out of the game to be with Teresa. What you said-"

"Danny-"

"-no. Let me finish. What you said…and when you _challenge_ me…Rusty, I haven't felt like that in a long time. It's not comfortable. It's not an easy place to be."

It made him feel alive in ways that he couldn't enumerate but that wasn't the point.

They'd stopped on the beach with the lake lapping up against the shore and he was looking at Rusty now and he wasn't completely sure if he was speaking to Rusty, to Scott or to himself.

"It's just that you're talking about a man that I can never be. I can't take stupid risks. I can't…" And the memory of the last time he had flashed through him. "You're asking too much of me."

* * *

"You're asking too much of me," Danny said and Rusty held his gaze for the longest time.

"I understand, Danny, better than I did and it's OK to be frightened," he said softly.

_Not frightened for yourself. I get that._

"Even so," Rusty went on, "there are risks and there are risks. You get yourself a good detail man and-"

"-now you sound like Scott-"

"-well, maybe he had a point. Rick…" Rusty waved a hand in frustration at the moon. "You could do so much better. Danny, why do you hang around with him?"

Danny's eyes closed off at once. Rick was obviously not a topic up for discussion.

"Alright," Rusty said reluctantly. "Alright. Let's focus on the job in hand."

But his eyes told Danny that he wasn't going to let it drop.

* * *

They'd all said goodnights and Teresa had turned in and Rick and Eduardo and Rusty had followed her up. Rusty had glanced curiously down at Danny.

"You not heading up to bed?"

"In a while," Danny said dismissively. "Just want to tidy up."

* * *

In the bedroom, Rusty looked round at the dolls and the toys and the other souvenirs and he _saw…_ Danny's way of saying to Teresa that however far away he went, however often he left her, he never forgot her and he never would.

So much love. So much forever.

* * *

_**SomeWhere…SomeTime…**_

"You can't change-"

"-I _know_." Fierce and sulking and angry and anxious. "But I can warn…"

* * *

_The room. The room above Fat Joe's and there'd been Willoughby and there'd been bullets and he was lying on the ground, unable to move. And Mitch lay dead and Saul was being taken away from him and he couldn't do a thing to stop it and then it was as if someone had poured water over the living picture. Mitch became Rick and Saul became Danny and still there was so, so much pain and he couldn't move, he couldn't move at all and all he could do was stare at Danny and will him with his eyes to know every last detail about how he felt and then Danny was gone, bundled out of the room and he knew he would never see him again._

_And then it was as if Danny disappearing was a catalyst and he could move, even though it hurt so, so badly, and he dragged himself over to where Rick lay and he cradled his body in his arms and wept like he would never stop..._

"Hey…hey…"

A hand on his shoulder and he came to with a start.

"Ed?" Blinking and hazy and trying to sit up.

"S'me. Danny."

"Oh…" He rubbed his eyes and the shape on the edge of the bed resolved itself indeed into Danny.

"You OK? I was on my way to bed and you sounded…"

Rusty grimaced. He could imagine what he sounded like. Whimpering and soft little noises. The nightmare hadn't been in his head for ages. At least five years. And this was some new twist…some twist he couldn't quite remember…

"Just a bad dream," he said and shrugged away Danny's concern. He checked his watch. "It's two in the morning. You're only just coming up?"

Danny stood up and gave an easy smile. "Well, either it's exceptionally tidy downstairs or I fell asleep."

"Yeah. I'm going to give that another go."

"Sounds like a plan. See you in the…see you later."

"Sure. And…thanks."

"No problem."

Rusty watched him walk out of the room and there was a moment of _almost_ and then the memory wisped tantalisingly away and he lay back down and closed his eyes.


	30. Reflection

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: just borrowing these wonderful characters.

Chapter Thirty: Reflection

* * *

Morning and Alex lay in bed and stared at the ceiling and let out a heavy sigh. The conversation he'd had with Constantine the previous evening was still fresh in his mind.

_"Mr Fitzwilliam called." Constantine was busy throwing clothes into a holdall. "I'm off to Colombia. There's a dispute resolution with part of the supply chain that needs to take place and he's asked me to handle it."_

_Dispute resolution. That sounded vaguely euphemistic for something unpleasant but Alex pushed the thought from his mind._

_"Well, that's good, isn't it? That he asked you, I mean. It sounds like he's-"_

_"It's a trip to a fetid little opium farm in the back of beyond where technology has yet to visit. Oh, it's a good thing, alright." Constantine's face was full of anger. "More like a punishment for the fiasco he witnessed."_

_Alex bit his lip and stayed silent. _

_"I should be back in a week, two weeks tops. While I'm gone, get on with the recruitment for a new dealer. We need to assure Mr Fitzwilliam we've got everything under control."_

_"We do, though," Alex said quickly. "All those customers on the day were looked after and Alisha's gone..." He hesitated and then went on, "Tony said that Anton's trail has gone dead. Maybe we ought to ask Alisha some more questions..."_

_"Alisha would be another dead end. Trust me."_

_He hadn't got it at first and then he had and his eyes had widened. Constantine had just shaken his head at him._

_"Grow up, Alex. You know what kind of world we operate in."_

_He could hear the disgust and the exasperation. Swallowing hard, he'd forced the feeling of nausea away and then timidly asked, "Have you had any more thoughts about who sent that message about the coin being fake?"_

_Constantine sighed exaggeratedly. "It was someone working with Anton and Alisha. Someone who probably found out they were getting stiffed and decided on a little payback."_

_It was a theory..._

_"What we have to do is get back on track, little brother," Constantine said, zipping up the case. "At the moment, we're holding things up. System needs to be back in place. Get things together here. When I get back, we want to be ready for our next auction."_

Constantine had left and Alex was left alone in charge of Larner's. In charge of operations. Well, he wouldn't let Constantine down. He knew the staff - _all_ staff - considered him the "other" Mr Taylor but Tony would back him. Tony always backed him. And no one would dare take on Tony. By the time Constantine returned, he'd have Larner's back up and running.

* * *

Rusty hadn't slept particularly well. No more nightmares but there had been vague horror running half-formed through his sleep and it had been a relief to wake.

He dressed quickly and felt the weight of the little box with the Gobrecht Dollar in his pocket. It needed to be returned to Carter but there was no immediate rush. And Rusty had a plan.

Walking down the stairs, he found he wasn't first up. Teresa was humming to herself in the kitchen.

"Good morning," he said and she jumped.

"Sorry." He held his hands up. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"I didn't hear you. You're up early."

"So are you," he pointed out.

"I'm making Danny a cup of coffee," she explained turning her attention back to the kettle in front of her.

"Breakfast in bed?" he smiled.

"Coffee in bed," Teresa corrected.

She stared at him thoughtfully.

"Rusty isn't really a name," she frowned then added wonderingly, "Is it?"

"It's more of a nickname."

The frown was back in place. "Your name's Nick?"

"No, no," he smiled again. "It's definitely Rusty. It's not much of a name but I like it."

She pondered for a moment then announced, "I like it too."

"Well…good."

"Did you want breakfast?" she asked suddenly. "Rick likes me to make him breakfast."

"Does he now."

"Yes," she said patiently. "I just said so."

He fell silent, guilty at the rhetorical being taken literally and Teresa poured the hot water into the mug.

"Rick likes breakfast in bed," she confided. "Well, when he comes here on his own."

_Wait, what?_ Rusty stared at her. "Rick comes here on his own?"

Teresa nodded. "Sometimes."

She walked out of the kitchen and Rusty stood and tried to process the revelation. _Rick…and Teresa…?_ He followed her out to the foot of the stairs.

"Teresa, does Danny know Rick comes to see you when he's not here?"

"Oh, yes," Teresa smiled. "Danny sends him to look after me."

There was absolute truth in her face. Oh, he needed to think about this one.

* * *

Danny woke up to a soft hand on his face and the smell of black coffee. He gazed up blearily with a smile at Teresa then moved over in the bed so that she could climb in and he could wrap his arms around her and hold her tight.

"Missed you," he murmured into her hair and he didn't have to see her face to see her smile.

He shuffled them up into a sitting position and managed to manoeuvre the coffee cup into drinking reach.

"How do you like Eduardo and Rusty?" he asked, sipping the coffee.

"Eduardo is fun!" Teresa declared. "He made me smile so much. I'm glad I called my dog Eduardo."

"Good. And Rusty?"

"Rusty's nice too. I shall name another dog Rusty."

Danny made a mental note to find another stuffed dog. He had a picture of one wearing a waistcoat and his lips twitched as he thought of Rusty's face when Teresa christened it.

He drank more coffee and enjoyed the warmth spreading through him, pulling him into the waking world, sharpening his brain. The conversation he'd had on the beach with Rusty echoed in his head and he bit his lip. He'd had to share how he felt. All evening, Rusty had looked like he was beating himself up and Danny needed to explain. And Rusty had understood. Really understood. And still wouldn't accept the decision.

"_There are risks and there are risks. You get yourself a good detail man…"_

Danny's mind swam for a moment in a world where all the possibilities that he dreamt of might be realised. After his time working with Scott, it had been so, so hard to stop dreaming. Like trying to turn off a waterfall. All the places he'd travelled with Teresa, he was seeing the angles and the opportunities. He was never going to act on them but he couldn't stop them flashing into his head.

Working with Rick and he hadn't even tried to stop them. He'd let them all flood out like a dam bursting into a drought-stricken land. Because he'd found somebody who understood, who spoke the language, who could see what he saw.

Except… Danny forced himself to be honest. Except that Rick didn't completely see. Didn't always hear the music that was created in Danny's head. Oh, sometimes… Sometimes, Danny would be sketching out with words what was alive inside him and Rick would catch the passion and the idea and Danny could see it registering with him. More often than not, though, Rick would paint the risk and the danger and advocate playing safe and Danny would nod in agreement and feel the fire dying down within. After Belize, Rick had even less occasion to be the voice of sense and reason.

Danny glanced down at Teresa snuggled into him and stroked her hair. Sense and reason. There was a reason and it made sense.

* * *

Eduardo lay for a long luxurious moment in the warm bed, snuggled under the duvet and wondering if he kept his eyes shut, he could hang on to sleep for just a little while longer. With a sigh, he decided it just wasn't possible and sat up, stretching and running a hand through his hair.

Last night had been…interesting. He hadn't spoken much to the older woman, Felicity, but she had been pleasant enough. Teresa had been an absolute sweetheart. Unassuming and direct and beautiful. She said what was on her mind and she looked incapable of lying and she reminded Eduardo of his little cousin Antonia whom he'd played with when he was younger. Eduardo liked her very much.

Danny had a nice home with a nice wife and a nice neighbour. And if not for the fact that this was now stage two of the Quentin job, the final stage in fact, then he would have enjoyed himself so much more. The closer to the end of the job they got, the closer it was to saying goodbye to Rusty. That was if Rusty was actually going to say goodbye. Eduardo wouldn't put it past Rusty just to vanish. He sighed again and stood up and pulled his clothes on.

Rusty had been quiet last night. He hadn't noticed at first in all the excitement of new place, new people. And then the memories had come flooding back of that beach in Calais…wet sand in between his toes and hunting for fossils he couldn't find and not completely certain Rusty wasn't playing him because there had been a real twinkle in his eye when Eduardo had declared what his plan was…

At the dinner table though, Rusty still hadn't said much. Eduardo had wanted to talk to him but Rusty had disappeared and Eduardo had ended up going to bed without seeing him.

Today, though, today he would find time to talk to Rusty and to find out what was wrong. Because Rusty was never _that_ quiet. Not in the two years he'd been with him had Eduardo known Rusty to be that quiet.

He walked out of his bedroom and glanced at Rusty's door. It was ajar and he pushed it open. No Rusty. Well, Rusty was often an early riser. Often, Rusty was late going to bed. Sleep never seemed to be that high up on Rusty's list of priorities.

Downstairs, he still found no Rusty and he frowned and an irrational anxiety started to grow within him. Then Rick and Danny and Teresa all came laughing down the stairs, some joke that Rick had made and Eduardo stared up at them, looking for a Rusty who wasn't there.

_Oh…_

He must have staggered or stumbled or something because Danny was at his side and supporting him.

"Steady," Danny murmured somewhere a long way off.

Eduardo felt sick to the pit of his stomach. No wonder Rusty had been quiet. Oh, no wonder he'd been quiet.

"_I'm ready to walk off this job right now_. _I don't need to be here."_

He'd been right. Rusty wasn't a goodbye person.

"_With this job, I'd say that the difficult part is over."_

That was why Rusty had been so silent. He'd been planning this exit. He'd gone. He'd gone and Eduardo would more than likely never see him again because if Rusty didn't want to be seen, then Rusty would be invisible. This was it. This was two years over and the best and most brilliant part of his life to date was ended because Rusty was-

"Breakfast, anyone?"

Rusty. Rusty coming through the door behind him. Eduardo closed his eyes briefly and swallowed hard and then opened them and turned round.

Rusty was there, alright. Clutching an enormous bag from a fast food restaurant and a large bunch of flowers.

"Flowers are for you, Teresa," Rusty presented them with charm and smile and received a thrilled "thank you" by way of reply. "Food is for all of us. Morning, Ed."

He strode past Eduardo and put the bag down on the table and various packages of food and drink started to appear. Rick wandered over and took an interest, picking up the cartons and wrappers, no doubt with the aim of identifying the contents.

Teresa disappeared towards the kitchen with the flowers and Danny was still there, still holding his arm.

"You feeling OK?" Danny asked in a low voice. "You looked really pale there."

"Yeah, I'm fine." He flashed a quick smile at Danny.

"Let's go find something to eat," Danny suggested. "You probably need it."

* * *

"Miaow!" Insistent and demanding.

"Yes, yes. I'm coming, Canute."

Felicity padded across to the front door in her slippers and unlocked it. The black cat backed away from the fresh air.

"Shoo, then, you overweight feline," she instructed and as Canute darted out, Felicity noticed what was on the front step.

She pulled her dressing gown further around herself and then bent down and picked up the flowers and chocolates and the note.

"_Felicity. Thank you for the loan of Bessie. She drives like a dream."_

Felicity smiled. Oh, that boy was a real class act.

* * *

Rick sat and watched with an air of fascinated horror as Rusty carefully poured the syrup over the sausages and pancakes.

"There is something seriously wrong with your tastebuds," Rick muttered. He leaned across the table and picked up a burger and unwrapped it. "I'll tell you what else is wrong. Hotwiring Danny's car to go and pick this up. Doubt Danny's going to be pleased about that."

Rusty's eyes gleamed. He glanced over at Danny and Ed, making their way over to the table and still out of earshot.

"Is it as wrong as breakfast in bed?" he murmured.

Colour drained from Rick's face and the burger halted on its way to his lips.

"How pleased would Danny be to know you stop by to look after Teresa?"

Rick stared at him and then the colour returned and a smile formed.

"Maybe you should ask him."

"Maybe I will. If you make any more cracks like that one last night about Ed…"

He tailed off abruptly as Danny and Eduardo arrived at the table but his eyes promised Rick he meant what he said.

* * *

The four of them left Teresa with a story about running out to look at a house nearby that Rusty was interested in. Danny told himself it wasn't exactly a lie, after all.

Rusty produced the keys to Bessie and twirled them round on his fingers.

"Who's coming with me then?"

Rick's jaw was somewhere down near his ankles.

Danny was amused. "Felicity lent you her car? You _are_ honoured."

Rusty grinned and fished out his sunglasses then climbed behind the wheel. Eduardo slid into the front seat next to him. Rusty gestured. _After you. _Danny couldn't stop himself returning the grin. Rusty was so damn laid-back.

"She never lent _me_ her car," Rick muttered and Danny's grin widened at the sulk in Rick's voice.

"Here you go," he said, tossing Rick the keys to his own car. "You can borrow my car anytime."

* * *

He called Doug Quentin en route.

"Doug? Danny Ocean. Just giving you an update."

The voice the other end was all smiles.

"I read the newspapers, Danny. Only a little article but I saw it. Scandal at Larner's. That was your doing, wasn't it?"

"That was down to all four of us-"

Doug wasn't listening.

"-it said that Larner's had sacked the employee responsible, that was Alisha, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me _every_thing."

* * *

Eduardo snuck a glance at Rusty, relaxed, contented, wearing that familiar little half-smile. The day was warm and sunny and the top on the Mustang was down and they could have been anywhere. French Riviera...Mediterranean coastline... Eduardo closed his eyes and felt the ache where the pressure in his chest had been so, so tight. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Ed?"

Damn it. Rusty saw everything. Well, he wasn't going to let him know how close he'd come to cracking this morning. Rusty wanted him all grown-up and professional and so what if it hurt so much?

"Ed?"

Repeated and concerned and Eduardo opened his eyes and flashed Rusty a quick smile and was grateful Rusty had to keep his eyes on the road.

"Just enjoying the sunshine," he suggested and then before Rusty could challenge him, added, "You were very quiet last night, Rusty. You hardly said a thing at dinner."

Rusty let out a hint of a sigh and Eduardo recognised the silent debate going on inside Rusty. Truth, lie or edited version.

"Told you I had some apologising to do," Rusty said at last. "Took a while."

Hmm. Edited version.

"For you to apologise or for Danny to accept?"

Rusty hesitated again. "More for me to accept that Danny had accepted."

Huh. And that sounded complicated enough to be the truth.

"You sure you're OK?" Rusty added.

Bright smile, bright eyes, strong voice. He'd learned from the best. "I'm fine."

* * *

Hemingford Grey's house was large and new and in a rich neighbourhood. Set back in its own grounds with gates and walls and security, a definite statement of someone who had arrived.

They drove past at a respectable speed and then turned a corner or two and pulled up. Danny and Rick got out and sauntered back to where Rusty was parked, leaning up against the Mustang.

"So now we all know where he lives," Danny said.

"Some pad," Rick commented with grudging approval.

"Well, as ever, first step is research. We got the man and we got the house."

"I'll take the house-"

"I'll take the man-"

Rick and Rusty spoke at the same time and stared at each other, a nascent scowl forming on Rick's face and amusement washing over Rusty's. Danny chose to ignore both.

"Guess that's settled then," he said dryly. "Meet back at mine tonight."

* * *

They'd spent the day finding out everything they could about Hemingford's place and Danny was sat at a back table in the library, staring down at architectural plans and with half an ear on Rick's earnest whispered thoughts about the alarm system schematics.

He could feel the restlessness in his blood, in his soul and he scolded himself. This level of detail research was necessary. It couldn't be skimped on. He forced himself to concentrate on the plans in front of him. _Focus,_ he told himself and resolutely ignored the tangents his mind wanted to dive off on.

* * *

They were both back home a good couple of hours before the door opened and Eduardo walked in. Danny found unexplained tension evaporate as he saw Eduardo and then fill him up again as he realised that Eduardo was on his own.

"Where's Rusty?" he asked at once.

"We split up," Eduardo explained. "Isn't he back yet?"

"No," Danny frowned. "How did you get here?"

"Bus." Eduardo gave a slight smile. "Don't think Rusty's letting anyone else get behind the wheel of that car."

Eduardo's phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket.

"Hey. Yeah. Yeah. Got on OK. Yeah, I've just got back. OK. I'll tell them. Later." He looked at the other two. "He's still finding out about Hemingford and he's going to be late. He says not to wait for him."

Teresa appeared. "You're back!" Teresa smiled brightly at Eduardo. "Come and help me with dinner."

As Eduardo allowed himself to be pulled into the kitchen, Rick gave a grim grin.

"What's the betting golden boy's idea of finding out about Hemingford is to strip off and bend over?"

"Rick…" Danny said reprovingly.

Rick shrugged unrepentantly. "He'd do it, Danny. We both know it."

Danny bit his lip and hated the thought that Rick was right.

* * *

They'd just finished eating when Rusty walked back in.

"Sorry I'm late, guys." He waved a hand at the unspoken offer from Danny. "Thanks but I've eaten."

"We had cake," Teresa said happily.

Rusty stopped where he was. "Cake?"

"Felicity came over this afternoon and we made chocolate cake."

"Chocolate cake?"

"Chocolate cake," Teresa assured him seriously and Danny's lips twitched at the unblinking and the wide-eyed and the _hopeful _expression on Rusty's face. It was difficult to imagine that anyone could turn him down.

"Teresa," Danny said gently, helping Rusty out, "I think Rusty would like a slice." He felt the devil rise up within him. "Unless, Rusty, you're full…"

Rusty's eyes were on him in an instant.

"Oh, I always have room for chocolate cake."

* * *

Teresa had gone up to bed with a kiss from Danny and the four of them were sitting with coffees. Rusty had looked wistfully down at the crumbs on his plate and Danny had taken pity on him and brought him through another slice. The smile on Rusty's face was immediate and electric and Danny felt his own lips curve in response.

"So," Rick began. "We going to catch up, right? Danny and I-"

Danny held up a hand and Rick stopped and frowned.

"What?"

"I don't think the chocolate cake should be interrupted."

Eduardo grinned. "We _would_ be better off waiting."

Rick glanced at the closed eyes and the bliss and the faintest of contented noises.

"Man," he muttered with frustration.

The final piece of cake disappeared and Rusty opened his eyes and there was sharp blue focus.

"So, Rick. You were saying?"

Rick had a lot to say. About the house and the blueprints and the alarms and the layout. Danny sat and listened to the detail and it meant as much to him as it had earlier and he couldn't explain the restive feeling bubbling away inside him.

"What about you two?" Rick demanded and Danny's attention snapped back to the conversation.

Rusty waved a hand at Eduardo. "Ed'll give you the official."

Eduardo obliged. "Hemingford Grey is fifty-three. He came from the Mid-West and is a self-made man. Swift rise in the business world. Retired a couple of years ago and had the house built. No family. Parents are dead, sister died in a car crash ten years ago."

"He got a wife?" Danny asked.

"No."

"Girlfriend? Boyfriend?" Rick wanted to know.

"Well, there wasn't anything on the record…" Eduardo's eyes flicked over to Rusty.

"I did the unofficial," Rusty said with a lazy smile.

The others waited.

"Well?" Rick snapped.

"I haven't finished doing the unofficial," Rusty explained solemnly.

"What the…" Rick glared at him. "What did you two _do_ all day?" His gaze grew less angry and more calculated and slid over to Eduardo. "How much room is there in that Mustang anyway-"

"-so tomorrow," Danny said hurriedly, seeing the look on Rusty's face.

"Tomorrow, I'm going to get a close-up," Rick announced. "Going to offer to clean out the gutters at a dirt-cheap price."

"Take Ed with you," Rusty suggested and before Rick could protest, added softly, "I don't see Danny up a ladder, do you?"

Rick looked as if he still wanted to argue the point and then gave an abrupt nod. "You're with me, kid."

"What about you?" Danny asked.

"I'm going to be working on getting closer to Hemingford," Rusty said and his expression said that he wasn't going to elaborate however hard Danny stared at him.

"Guess that leaves you, Danny," Eduardo said finally to fill the silence.

"Yeah…"

It did. And he couldn't begin to think of a single useful thing he could do tomorrow. The other three seemed to have everything under control and he supposed he ought to start thinking about the shape of a plan. Just that the way his mind was at the moment…planning seemed fairly unachievable.

"Why don't you have a day at home?"

It was Rusty who'd spoken.

"At home?" Danny repeated.

"Yeah. Look over Rick's work. Get some thoughts in place."

"Danny doesn't need to sit still to think," Rick said at once. "He can multitask."

"It's just a suggestion." Rusty gave an easy shrug and gave Rick a cool glance. "Tell me how you think you're going to get past security."

Rick bristled at the implied slight and started talking at once and Danny sat back, his own role tomorrow forgotten. Rusty had deflected and distracted smoothly and Danny was grateful. Oh, he needed to focus. Everyone would be relying on him and he had to keep everyone safe.

* * *

Talk had wound up for the evening. Rick and Eduardo had gone up and Danny had caught Rusty by the arm and pulled him aside.

"Why did you push for me to stay at home?"

Rusty gave a smile and a shrug. "Figured you might want some quality time with Teresa. Not easy when you've got a houseful."

Huh. "That's…" Huh.

"You're welcome." Rusty grinned and then the grin faded. "You OK?"

"Yeah, I'm…" Impossible to describe how he was feeling. He couldn't quantify it to himself so how was he going to explain it to Rusty? "You go on up. I'll straighten a few things down here."

Danny saw Rusty's eyes narrow as if debating whether he was going to challenge him and then thankfully, he nodded and accepted the decision and went upstairs and left Danny alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Alex was exhausted but determined not to show it. It had been a long day of management tasks and he'd thought of what Constantine would do and faced down everyone who'd looked like they might want to argue.

Now, he was stood in the main auction hall, busy doing system checks. If they were going to run the auction again, they needed to know things were secure. He stood staring down at the screen and going through a dummy auction line by line. The IT guys had done their best not to sneer at him when he'd asked for it to be set up out of hours and Alex had gritted his teeth and stared them down.

This was the last screen to check and he wasn't even really sure what he was looking for. Just some sort of reassurance. Something that he could do that he could report to Constantine he had done. Something to... Alex frowned.

"Mr Taylor?"

It was Tony walking in and holding out the black file and Alex took it from him and thanked him absent-mindedly.

"Is that all, Mr Taylor? Mr Taylor?"

Alex had dropped to all fours and was peering in the darkness of wires underneath the desk. Tony joined him.

"What's that?" Alex asked and pointed at the green flashing light pulsing away steadily.

Tony reached underneath and pulled free a little device that sat in his hand innocently, devoid of power. Alex looked at it and then up at Tony.

"Let me look into it, Mr Taylor," Tony offered. "In the meantime, why don't you close down and get some sleep? It's late."

Alex nodded slowly. Perhaps he would do just that.


	31. Belief and Belize part one

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: oh, they don't belong to me. Am now humming George Michael's "Freedom".

Chapter Thirty-one: Belief and Belize part one

* * *

Sleep was only moments away.

"_Is it as wrong as breakfast in bed?"_

Rick's eyes shot open. For one awful, awful second, he'd thought Rusty knew. And then he'd looked at him, looked deep into Rusty's eyes and he was convinced Rusty knew nothing.

"_How pleased would Danny be to know you stop by to look after Teresa?"_

Yeah. Let Rusty try that line. Rick smiled to himself and turned over and let sleep claim him.

* * *

_Fat Joe's. Fat Joe's and his feet were climbing the stairs and leading him to the room where death and devastation awaited. He knew what was going to happen. He'd wait in the room and then Willoughby would turn up and Mitch would arrive and Saul would burst in and there would be pain and blood and horror._

_Except...Willoughby was already there. He pushed the door open and froze because Willoughby was already there. And it wasn't Mitch and himself lying on the floor, it was Rick and it was Danny and Danny was looking up at him with so much agony in his face, Danny was saying so much with his eyes... A whimper escaped him and then Willoughby turned round and walked past him as if he didn't see him. Suddenly, he could move and he rushed forward past Danny and ran to Rick's side and..._

_Blood. So much blood. So much pain. _

_He held Rick in his arms and the life force had gone, had drained away and all that was left was the empty shell and he was howling inside and out and -_

Rusty woke with a start, his heart pounding. That had been... He was shaking, physically shaking and his mouth was dry... The nightmare had evolved. He closed his eyes and-

_Danny's eyes. Anguished and pleading and-_

He opened his eyes again quickly. He remembered. Rick had been dead and he himself had been… Oh, that was some kind of crazy. Wasn't like he gave a damn about Rick. Rick wasn't even close to being Mitch. He settled himself down for sleep again.

_Fat Joe's. The same dream but sped up and more intense and he was opening the door and staring at Danny lying on the floor in his place. Danny, in so much pain and unable to speak, unable to say a word, just as he himself had been._

_He crossed the room and knelt down beside Danny and pressed a hand to his face and looked deep into Danny and there had been so many words that neither of them were saying out loud. And then he'd reached out and softly run his hand over Danny's eyes, half-closing the lids._

"_He's dead," he heard himself saying and the emptiness overwhelmed him and he was lost in a gulf of null and numb and the screaming inside him was so loud and it was the end of days, the end of everything-_

There was blood in his mouth. He lay in the bed and reached up and touched his lip and winced for where he had bitten down so hard. His heart was still hammering away and the adrenaline was coursing through him and sleep could go hang.

Rusty sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. It had been a warm day, an Indian summer day, and it was a warm night. He needed a drink and he would go downstairs and find water and ignore the part of him that was requesting something stronger.

He got up and padded softly out of his room and past Ed's door. It was ajar and he looked in. Ed was sprawled on his front, his arm hanging over the edge of the bed and wrapped in deep slumber. Rusty smiled and headed down the stairs.

It was the flickering light that drew his attention. Walking through to the living area, he found the TV playing _"A Matter of Life and Death" _and he looked for the remote control to turn it off. Only to find Danny sitting on the couch, bleary-eyed and staring back at him.

"What the-"

"Ssshh!" Danny suggested.

Rusty acquiesced and whispered, "What are you doing?"

"Watching TV."

"With the sound down."

"Didn't want to wake anyone."

"At…" he checked his watch, "…two in the morning."

"Yeah."

OK. Golden question. "Why?"

"Couldn't sleep."

Rusty frowned. Maybe it was the truth but Danny didn't even look like he'd _tried_ to go to sleep. He was still dressed and Rusty suddenly doubted that Danny had been upstairs at all.

"Why are you down here?" Danny whispered.

The frown disappeared and Rusty grinned.

"Could sleep. Didn't want to. Also, needed a drink."

"Huh."

There was something in Danny's manner and Rusty thought again about earlier and how unsettled Danny had seemed. He thought about the previous night. Maybe they needed to talk some more.

"Danny-"

"Ssshh!"

Right. Maybe they needed to talk somewhere else.

"You want to go for another stroll on the beach?"

Danny sat upright on the couch.

"You're wearing underwear," he pointed out.

Rusty looked down at the black T and the boxers. So he was. He glanced back at the stairs and said hesitantly, "Well, I could always…"

Danny stood up and turned off the television. "Grab yourself a coat from under the stairs. I'll get some sodas."

* * *

Danny returned from the kitchen with a couple of cans and with difficulty, stifled the laughter. Rusty had chosen a short trenchcoat and looked faintly ridiculous.

Rusty saw the amusement and his bottom lip protruded and Danny bit his lip furiously. He held out the can.

"You look like a spy that's been stripped of his status," he suggested in a low voice.

Rusty hovered between sulk and smile and settled for the latter.

"James Bond never had this problem."

"James Bond's got more sense than to show off his knees," Danny told him, opening up the verandah doors and leading the way out the back and down the steps and towards the beach.

"He favours swimming trunks on occasion," Rusty argued, following him.

"Ah, but then he has a bare chest or Ursula Andress," Danny said. "These act as a distraction from his knees."

Rusty pondered this. "You think it would be better if I were bare-chested?"

Danny grinned. "Think you'd better start praying Honey Ryder's going to come out of the lake clutching seashells."

* * *

The moon was up again as it had been the previous night and there was the faintest of light breezes rolling in off the lake. Without words, they mutually settled on a spot a little way down from the house and sat down on the sand, their backs against a small dune and looked out at the dark water.

Rusty sipped the soda and looked sideways at Danny, lost in thought and was more convinced than ever that Danny had things he needed to say. And maybe he, Rusty, needed to encourage him.

"Tell me how you hooked up with Teresa."

Danny looked at him and his face was startled and Rusty could see him start to bridle at the direct. And then, Danny's shoulders dropped and he stared back out across the lake and he started talking.

"I was twenty-one. I was young and I thought the world should work a certain way. Teresa was… I took her away from something less than life."

"You dropped out," Rusty said softly and when Danny turned his head in surprise, went on, "you said so last night. You said Scott never really understood..."

Danny's mouth flicked into a smile and out again. "Scott was...I learned so much from Scott. He wanted me to be so..." Another smile, sad and wistful and full of what might have been and wasn't. "With Teresa, I couldn't. I didn't dare. I took her all these places, saw all these sights...I tried to show her what life _should_ be about. All the time. All the time we walked into shops and I was looking at cameras and security. All the time we went round art galleries and I was looking at the alarms and the blind spots." He laughed mirthlessly. "Even when I took her to a show on Broadway, I was wondering how easy it was to get to the back office and which night would be best to hit the joint."

Danny looked down at the can of drink in his hand.

"Drove me a little crazy," he admitted. "But I love her," he added, turning a defiant gaze on Rusty. "I love her and she loves me. Just that I..."

"You couldn't stop thinking and at the same time, you couldn't risk her," Rusty finished and Danny nodded miserably.

"Came a point when the money ran out and I had to go back to work. Thank God for Felicity. And even then, I just ran short cons. Small stuff. Close to home and very low risk. Stuff you break yourself in on. When I met Rick...suddenly, I could work that much bigger. Two man jobs. Even went as far as Florence. All the things I could do, all the plans I could make..."

And Rusty could almost taste the freedom in those last words. As if vision and talent had been unshackled and set free.

"You can't switch it off," Rusty told him fiercely. "You have to be what you are. Grifting is in your blood, in your soul and…I think I like the sound of Scott. You need to be true to yourself, Danny. You need to let yourself go."

Troubled eyes were on his in an instant and Rusty _knew_ he was getting close to the real story.

"Tell me," he said simply and Danny screwed up his face.

* * *

_Reuben Tishkoff had been in Danny's life since forever. Reuben and Danny's dad had been good friends. They'd opened up hotels on the Strip at nearly the same time and they'd both of them shook Sinatra's hand and they both of them rode out the days of Mob rule without offending anyone who might want permanent redress. _

_Danny's mother had died before he could start to remember her properly and he knew his dad had leaned heavily on his friendship with Reuben to get him through the times of rage and depression and burning injustice. Reuben was flamboyant and fun and a sharp contrast to Danny's dad who was soberly dressed and serious. Danny loved Reuben as much as he loved his father. _

_Growing up in Vegas had been an all-round education for Danny. He'd been schooled and he'd done well but alongside the formal, ran the unavoidable extra-curricular activity. A life spent surrounded by showgirls and bright lights and tourists and gamblers and hard men and money and greed made Danny grow up more quickly than his peers. _

_His dad taught him cards and Reuben taught him how to cheat. _

_"You need to know how to be able to spot it," Reuben told him. "If you're gonna run a Vegas casino one day, you need to know these things."_

_"I don't expect you to run a casino, you know," his dad had told him privately. "You need to do what you need to do." His dad squeezed Danny's shoulder. "But it won't hurt you to know what to look out for in life. Whatever you end up doing, that's got to help."_

_Lessons from his dad were about people and relationship-building and respect and treating others as you would want to be treated. Fairness. A morality. Danny learned how to influence with a soft word or a kind gesture._

_Lessons from Reuben were about the practical. Reuben had sharp commercial acumen and amazing mental arithmetic skills. He had good business instincts and the deals he made were hard but fair and the people on the other side still liked Reuben. Still wanted to do business with him._

* * *

"I remember some tough negotiation Reuben was handling and he got me to bring the coffees in. Top up the cups. Keep the refreshments flowing. Reuben was sat one side of the table, puffing away on his cigar and there were three guys the other side and I _knew_ they were looking at this flashy hotel owner and just seeing the surface..."

"You were doing more than filling up their coffee, weren't you?" Rusty said and Danny looked taken aback and then amused and impressed all at the same time.

"Yeah. I was watching them. Reuben had regular little time-outs. Weak bladder, he told the others. I stayed in the room and I overheard everything. They had me marked down as some junior waiter. Every now and then, I'd step outside for fresh coffee and I'd let Reuben know what they were saying. I don't think to this day they ever worked out how he knew what to push and what not to."

Rusty could see the scene. Danny, young and careful and reading people and staying invisible and Reuben, who had lost none of the flamboyance with age, dazzling with the outrageous and keeping the other guys off-balance. Being invisible and being flash and being underestimated. Conman's tricks.

"Reuben taught me so much," Danny said softly.

* * *

_Reuben was busy constructing the best casino security known to man. Danny would find vault plans strewn over Reuben's desk and he learned how to interpret the squiggles and the marks and to picture what they all meant. Camera sequences and gadgets and technology-_

"Really?" Rusty's lips were twitching.

Danny pursed his lips. "Really." He sighed. "And I didn't have to know how the things worked, I just had to know what they did."

_-technology and screens... _

_His dad was educating him in the skill of reading people and their intentions._

_"Look at this table," his dad would say. "Tell me what you see."_

_And Danny would reel off the out-of-town tourist and the honeymooners and the serious gambler and the student with a system... All of life's rich pageant compressed and living in Sin City and Danny loved every minute of every day._

_When Danny was nearly twenty, his father died. Suddenly and from a heart attack and Danny had wept and wept and wept. Reuben had grown older overnight. He'd stood with his hand on Danny's shoulder at the funeral and Danny had never been more grateful for the love and the support._

_A week or so later and Danny had found out the truth. Or some of it, at least. Times in Vegas were slow. Opportunities needed to be seized upon otherwise you went under. His dad had become embroiled in a deal that Reuben had warned him against. _

_"Someone was putting pressure on your father," Reuben said gently as Danny sat by the pool at Reuben's house, numbly listening. "He went into it on a recommendation from another casino owner. It was the next big thing."_

_"This other casino owner," Danny asked, "did he go into this deal?"_

_Reuben hesitated. _

_"No," he said finally. "He pulled out at the last minute."_

_Danny nodded and the anger was tight in his face. "So dad ended up committed and with no support."_

_"Willy didn't mean for your dad to-" Reuben sighed. "No one is to blame, Danny. It was a bad business call."_

_Danny thought of the preceding weeks when his father had grown more and more quiet and had locked himself away with papers and a calculator and when he had looked at Danny, there had been love and guilt and he'd been asking Danny for something that Danny couldn't fathom._

* * *

"Forgiveness," Danny said heavily. "He'd put the hotel up as collateral. Had to sell the place and sell it fast. Reuben managed the sale."

Rusty was silent and thoughtful and then asked, "Did you go after this Willy?"

Danny grimaced. "Tried. Didn't care what Reuben said, I wanted someone to pay." He blinked hard. "You seen "The Untouchables"?"

"Robert Stack or Kevin Costner?"

"Costner," Danny looked to be smiling in spite of himself. "When Al Capone threatens his family and Ness confronts him at the hotel. It was very like that. Big scene. Lot of shouting. Lot of accusation. Reuben came out of nowhere and hauled me away. Spoke to Willy separately. Don't know what he said, something about a grief-stricken teenager, no doubt. Sat me down too and told me to let it go."

"And could you?" Rusty whispered and ignored the tightness in his chest.

Danny's eyes were dull with defeat. "Didn't want to. Had all these big ideas about how I was going to make him suffer. And then there was Reuben and he said he didn't want to be burying two of his best friends within a month of each other."

* * *

_Reuben had looked after him. And he'd sat him down and he'd told him about a man he knew, Scott Cameron, and how he thought Danny might like to meet him. _

* * *

"This isn't about Scott," Danny said abruptly. "Point is, that Reuben's the closest thing I've got to family. I guess he's..." he broke off and hesitated and then went on, "I guess he's like Saul."

Rusty's eyes widened and he sat upright.

"What do you know about Saul?" he demanded fiercely.

Danny held his gaze. "I know he mattered to you. I know he was family."

Maria. It had to be Maria.

"What did she tell you?" Rusty asked and didn't bother trying to hide the aggression.

Danny wasn't fazed. "She told me he was special. Him and Mitch. And she told me he was dead."

There was a hint of a question in there and with difficulty, Rusty ignored the temptation to get up and run a million miles away. Instead, he ground out, "This isn't about Saul either" and Danny slowly nodded acceptance and continued with the story.

* * *

_He'd been working with Rick for nearly two years and if he was honest, it wasn't anywhere close to the work he'd done with Scott but it was so much better than not being able to breathe and live and work. Rick was cautious and careful and Danny was clever and quietly charismatic and they had success of sorts. _

_They never went too far from home and Rick understood why and Danny was ridiculously grateful. The one adventure abroad they had had to Italy had nearly gone badly wrong and Danny had sat on the plane home and listened to Rick's earnest dissection of the faults in the plan and had determined not to venture anywhere near as risky again._

_But Reuben called. A hesitant phone call which didn't say much and which left Danny knowing beyond doubt that Reuben needed his help. He and Rick and Teresa had flown out to Vegas and while Teresa swam in the pool and the sunshine, Danny and Rick had sat and listened to a story about a thing with a guy in a place and the place was Belize and the thing was a briefcase Reuben dearly wanted recovered and the guy was Dangerous. Capital letter intentional._

_Rick hadn't wanted to go. He'd talked Rick into it and he'd told himself it was OK to leave Teresa. This was Reuben. And family mattered._

_The plan had been fine. Or so Danny had thought. Right up until the point where he was sitting in a hotel room alone and realised that Rick wasn't going to be showing up any time soon. _

_A furious hunt and a desperate rescue and Rick had been more dead than alive when he'd found him and he'd peeled him up off the floor and carried him away and the guilt had been raging through him._

_

* * *

_

"I barely got him out of there," Danny said, staring at the dark water, the memories washing over him. "And then we both needed healing time. And one man's healing time is another man's time to plan."

Rusty waited but the silence stretched on. In the end, he asked, "What happened?"

_

* * *

_

They'd made it to the airport and they were being oh, so careful. No chances being taken. They'd split up and Rick had the briefcase and there was nothing to worry about, no incidents whatsoever. The plane journey home and they were sitting separately and not acknowledging each other and the only regret Danny had about that was the fact that he and Rick couldn't smile at each other when the glamorous but obviously new stewardess ended up nearly falling into passengers' laps. It happened to him, it happened to Rick, it happened to a couple of the others and Danny could see the older, more matronly stewardess standing with tight lips watching the girl. He felt sorry for her. She was doing her best, fetching pillows, putting hand luggage up in overhead lockers, bringing people drinks... When she leaned over him to check his seatbelt was fastened, he flashed her a smile.

_"You're doing OK," he told her and she looked startled and flushed and then smiled back at him._

_"Thank you," she said sincerely. _

_The plane landed back in Houston and Danny had followed Rick at a discreet distance through passport control and as he was waiting in line a handful of people behind Rick, he'd suddenly felt the little package in his pocket that hadn't been there when he'd boarded the plane. His fingers closed round it and he trembled inside. Drugs. _

_Self-preservation told him he needed to dispose of them and fast but where and how and he was surrounded by innocent people and there was no way he could plant them on some unsuspecting... _

_Another impulse was screaming through him. Rick. He needed to get to Rick. Desperately, he forced his way up the line and he was only a couple of places behind Rick now, but Rick had gone through and Danny all but bodily removed the woman in front of him and thrust his passport at the official. He darted through the crowd after Rick because he had to get to him before customs. Had to reach him. Close, so close and then he was at Rick's side and he bumped into Rick and reached into his pocket and lifted the little packet and prayed that was all there was._

_Before Rick could react, before Rick could say anything, Danny was off again, trying to put distance between himself and his partner with the same singlemindedness that he'd taken to find him._

_They'd both been stopped, of course. _

* * *

"She switched the briefcase too," Rusty said heavily and Danny nodded.

"They had nothing on Rick."

"And you?"

Danny swallowed. "Enough to put me away for five years."

Rusty couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath.

"Out in half the time," Danny said breezily.

The false lightness grated. Danny locked up, Danny in prison, innocent and caught red-handed and Rusty fought to keep the look of horror off his face. Danny saw it anyway.

"Wasn't any big deal," he muttered. "It was dead time. Long as you steered clear of Mickey Mason and his boys who ran the joint, you were OK."

Rusty's eyes were sharp. "And did you steer clear?"

Danny's gaze flickered away. "Mostly."

There was silence again and then Danny sighed.

"While I was inside, Reuben and Rick and Felicity looked after Teresa. They told her I was away with work. That dolls house? Reuben's idea. He sent her it and every month a piece of furniture on my behalf. Felicity...oh, thank God for Felicity. She cared for Teresa like she was her own daughter. And Rick? When he wasn't working, he was visiting me or visiting Teresa. I told him to tell her that I'd sent him."

The conversation with Rick at breakfast flashed through Rusty's head.

_"How pleased would Danny be to know you stop by to look after Teresa?"_

_"Maybe you should ask him."_

Rick wanted him to ask Danny alright. He wanted Rusty to insinuate and suggest and for Danny to remember and be distressed and to slap Rusty right back down. Rusty gritted his teeth and finished the soda.

"You ask me why I stick with Rick." Danny's voice was soft and faraway and he was looking out at the water again. "I owe him so much."

Rusty sighed. He couldn't fault the logic.

"Tell me about Belize," he said suddenly and at Danny's face, added, "please."

Danny closed his eyes and started at the beginning with the villa on the coast and the man who was Dangerous and his men who did a nice line in aspiring to capitalisation themselves. He talked about the safe in the room and the impossible security on three sides and the way in up the cliff and the hiding and the waiting.

With every word, Rusty saw how it was and the idea was brilliant. Fantastic. Breath-taking. And then Danny got into the details and Rusty started frowning because some of those were right but some of them...careless, shoddy, relying too much on Danny's ability to pull them off. The job had succeeded but that was because of Danny and in spite of Rick.

"What?" Danny asked and there was some amusement and some annoyance in there.

"It's just..."

Rusty started talking and he took the idea - the brilliant, fantastic, breath-taking idea - and he rewrote the story. In through the kitchen, not the bedroom window. Diverting the calls, not cutting the wires. Going with the third guard change, not the second. As he painted over the version Danny knew, he saw Danny's eyes light up and he knew Danny was seeing what he said.

When he'd finished, he looked at Danny.

_Well?_

"You make it sound...doable..." Danny said and the wistful surprise in his voice cut at Rusty.

There were so many things Rusty wanted to say. So many, many things and Danny's eyes acquired the haunted look of resignation that told Rusty Danny already knew.

Danny was tied down by a wife he loved and couldn't leave on her own and by a partner who was clumsy and unworthy and whom he would never leave. Rusty's shoulders sagged.

"We should be getting back," Danny suggested and they stood up and started making their way slowly back to the house.

One other thing from earlier nagged at Rusty.

"You been to bed yet?"

Danny stopped and stared.

"What?"

"Just that you were late coming to bed last night and tonight, you were still downstairs and...forget it. None of my-"

The air of the confessional had not completely died away.

"She hasn't had me in her bed for nearly three years," Danny said in a low voice and Rusty could hear the pain.

"You haven't been laid in three years?" he asked incredulously and saw the tightness in Danny's face and regretted it at once because that obviously wasn't the actual point.

"I don't want to...she's got used to not...I don't want her to feel she has to."

Rusty thought of Teresa, light and laughing and loving.

"Danny, the girl adores you. You only have to look at her to see that."

"I don't want to hurt her." It was little more than a whisper.

"It's not like you're gonna be forcing yourself-" Rusty broke off as Danny's face twisted. "Hey, hey..." He put a hand on Danny's shoulder. "It's not going to be like that, is it?"

Danny shook his head mutely and Rusty nodded encouragingly.

"She trusts you," he said softly. "You should trust yourself."

* * *

They said a wordless goodnight at the top of the stairs and Danny walked to his bedroom, feeling drained and exhausted and oddly liberated. So many secrets shared. And he felt so much lighter for it.

Teresa stirred in her sleep as he got into bed and instead of keeping still and silent as he usually did, he reached out and gently pulled her into his arms. The kiss was tender and long and meaningful.

"I love you so much," he whispered and she smiled up at him and pulled him close and kissed him back, hard and passionate and Danny tasted how much he'd been missed.

* * *

A/N: this was going to be longer. Hence title. :D Instinct felt I'd reached a natural break. And instinct was supported on this - thank you, mate. ;)


	32. Belief and Belize part two

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: didn't create them.

Chapter Thirty-two: Belief and Belize part two

* * *

Daylight pierced the gap in the curtains. Rusty yawned and stretched languorously. He laid back in the bed, his hands behind his head and thought of last night's conversation with Danny. Part of him wondered whether he'd dreamt the whole thing. Danny had confided so much and so much now made sense.

Reuben. Rusty thought back to summer in Monte Carlo and the back room with the poker game. Reuben had sat and chewed on a fat cigar and in his betting, he'd been extravagant and shrewd all at the same time. He'd been funny and full of outrageous stories and Rusty had made sure Reuben hadn't lost that night.

Afterwards, and Reuben had taken him for a drink and told him it was a joy to watch him deal cards. The conversation had diverted into professional reminiscences – they surprised themselves and found they both had passing acquaintance with a dealer named Frank who worked out of the States and Europe – and a bottle of scotch later, Rusty had liked him enough to give him the right number when Reuben had asked him for his contact details.

"_I might be able to put some business your way," Reuben had said with a smile._

And he had been true to his word.

"_I guess he was like Saul…"_

That had come out of nowhere. Rusty's mouth twisted into a thin line and with difficulty, pushed the thought of Saul away. He hadn't been ready – he _wasn't _ready to talk about Saul to Danny. Too much rawness even still. Even always.

But if Reuben was to Danny as Saul was to him… Rusty could understand the driving need to help him, to go to Belize and retrieve the briefcase. And the plan…oh, the plan had been brilliant. He could _see_ how it would have worked. How it should have worked with no one getting hurt and no one getting framed and no one doing two and a half years in prison. Danny deserved so much better than Rick.

Rusty sighed and thought of Teresa. Danny was bound to Rick by guilt and gratitude. And that meant Danny was grounded.

* * *

Danny lay, his arm wrapped round Teresa as she slept and he pressed his lips against her shoulder. He thought about last night's conversation with Rusty and part of him wondered if he'd dreamt the whole thing.

All the things he'd told him. All the things he'd shared. Somehow, once he'd started talking, he just couldn't stop. Talking to Rusty…it had felt so natural, so _right._ Hell, he'd said stuff to Rusty that he hadn't even told Rick. How could it be that he could tell things to a man he'd known a few weeks that he couldn't say to his partner of five years? It was crazy. It was ridiculous. It was…it was impossible. And yet it had happened anyway.

He kissed Teresa's shoulder again. He couldn't quite believe that he'd told Rusty about his self-imposed abstinence. And someone else might have laughed or mocked or sneered or seized upon a vulnerability but not Rusty.

Teresa woke up and turned round, sleepy eyes full of happiness and love.

"Hi," said Danny, stroking her hair back from her face. "Have I told you recently that I love you?"

* * *

In New York, Tony sat in a café near Larner's and waited for breakfast, turning the little grey object over and over in his hands. He agreed with Mr Alex that it didn't belong where it had been found: he just wished he knew what it was. Technology was not something he specialised in. It wasn't even something he was particularly interested in. He knew how to lean on a man to make him talk. He knew just how much pressure to apply to get answers. The physical was what he understood and what he was good at. This was not within his sphere of knowledge.

Tony frowned and then his brow cleared. Just because he didn't have the answer now, didn't mean he couldn't get it. You just had to know who to put the question to.

* * *

Eduardo hadn't asked as Rusty had walked downstairs with a trenchcoat and hung it up in the cupboard under the stairs. After two years of being around Rusty, you stopped being surprised and you picked your times to ask because-

"What's with the trenchcoat?" Rick wanted to know.

Rusty glanced over at the table with the toast and the coffee and Eduardo and Rick and Danny and Teresa and shrugged.

"Thought it looked like rain last night. Wanted to be prepared."

Eduardo saw Rick staring in disbelief and he could almost _see_ the thought processes – the_ "it looked nothing like rain"_ and the "_your room doesn't leak"_ and the general _"WTF"._ Eduardo buried his smile in his coffee cup. Rick looked like he wanted to pursue the point and Eduardo wanted very badly to dissuade him from that idea. Rusty did not respond well to persistence.

"So, I thought I'd work from home today," Danny said as Rusty sat down at the table and pulled toast towards him.

There was the ghost of a grin on Rusty's face and his eyes were smiling at Danny and Eduardo felt that pang of exclusion again. Did it count as jealousy when it was nothing to do with the physical or the professional?

"Guess we'll all meet up here later, then," Rusty suggested, buttering bread.

"What are you up to?" Rick demanded.

Rusty's eyes didn't flicker over to Teresa but then they didn't need to. It was an unspoken given that they didn't talk business in front of Danny's wife.

"Thought I'd have a little run out," Rusty said lightly. "You want me to drop you two in town?"

"Thanks," Eduardo said quickly. "That'd be great, wouldn't it, Rick?"

Rick's eyes were on Rusty. "Just swell."

* * *

The house emptied of visitors and Danny helped Teresa clear away the breakfast things.

"Do you really have to work?" Teresa asked.

He did. He should. Doug Quentin wasn't going to get his Canaletto back without a plan and he really ought to-

"_Figured you might want some quality time with Teresa." _

Two and a half years of worry and four months of treading carefully washed over him. He pulled Teresa to him.

"I don't have to work just yet," he murmured.

* * *

Rick had been stony-faced and uncommunicative as they'd borrowed the van and the ladders. As they sat in the back of the van and Eduardo wriggled his way into overalls that were made for a man about three times the size of him, Rick was still looking sullen.

"Thinks he's so smart, your partner, doesn't he?"

Eduardo made a non-committal noise. He happened to think Rusty was smart too.

"I tell you what, kid," Rick said suddenly, "if they do hook up, I'm not going to take it lying down. Danny's _my_ partner."

"No chance of that," Eduardo assured him.

"Flashing his eyes at Danny…" Rick wasn't listening. "What does he think Danny's going to do? Fall into bed with him? He'd love that, wouldn't he? Roll over and stick his ass in the air and-"

"Shut up, Rick." Quiet but insistent.

"-bet he lies in bed with you and just wishes you were Danny-"

"Shut up." Low and fierce.

"-does he call out Danny's name? Does he-"

"Shut the fuck up!"

Rick looked down at the fists that gripped the overall he was wearing and then up at Eduardo's face and blinked slowly.

"Sorry, kid," he said heavily. "I didn't mean…sorry."

Eduardo let the anger and the material go.

"We got a job to do," he reminded Rick.

* * *

Alex was sitting in Constantine's chair and staring down at paperwork. He knew what it all meant, of course. Preparing the paperwork for his brother was part of what he did. Just that it was always Constantine who signed the important things off. All things. Both sides of the business. With a hand that he refused to let shake, he picked up the weighty fountain pen and scrawled his name.

"You want anything, Mr Taylor, sir?"

Startled, Alex looked up. Davey was hovering in the doorway, an ingratiating smile on his face. Alex resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose with distaste at the obsequiousness on show.

"No, thank you, Davey. Oh, wait, yes. Where's Tony?"

"I can find him for you, sir."

Davey's eyes were bright with the pleasure at being set a task and he all but bowed and disappeared.

"It doesn't-"

Alex started to call after him and then broke off and sighed. The phone rang loudly and made him jump.

"Alex Taylor," he said into the receiver.

"Alex."

"Mr Fitzwilliam!" Alex swallowed nervously and gripped the phone a little more tightly. "How can I help you?"

"Just a little call, Alex. See how things are."

"Things are fine," he said quickly. "Things are back to normal."

"Good," came the approving comment. "Let's hope so. Doesn't do for Larner's to be under such close scrutiny."

No. Not by the papers and not by Mr Fitzwilliam.

"I'd like to come and visit again, Alex. When we're certain everything is taken care of. When I know I won't be disappointed."

"Oh, we'd love to see you, Mr Fitzwilliam," he gabbled. "You know that. Any time. Just let me-"

"I will, Alex, I will. Let us speak soon."

The line went dead and Alex sat in a pool of his own sweat and wished more than anything that Constantine was back from his trip.

"Problems, Alex?"

Alex's attention snapped round to the sandy-haired man leaning up against the doorway.

Lyle Thomas. Up and coming within Mr Fitzwilliam's organisation. Ambitious and competent and with definite designs on overtaking Constantine and himself in Mr Fitzwilliam's estimation. Alex dug his fingernails into his palms.

"You're a little way from home, aren't you, Lyle? Last I heard, you were down in Miami working the dog tracks."

Lyle grinned sharply and Alex was reminded of Constantine at his coldest.

"Heard you had some trouble. Thought I'd come by and see if there's anything I could do."

Alex's nails dug in deeper.

"No trouble-"

"Not what Rocco says," Lyle smiled, sauntering into the room, hands in pockets. He stood in front of the desk and looked down on Alex. "Rocco says that the last auction was a farce. No money taken, no goods moved. And the publicity…you and Constantine must have been _mortified_."

Alex leaned back in Constantine's chair and knotted his hands together in front of him. He hoped he looked in charge and confident: he had a nasty thought that Lyle knew it was to stop his hands from shaking.

"It was a glitch," Alex said shortly. "An employee who got greedy."

Lyle managed to look sympathetic and unsympathetic all at the same time.

"Well, these things happen. I'm sure Mr Fitzwilliam understands. I'm sure you and Constantine have things under control. Where is Constantine, by the way?"

Oh, Lyle knew _exactly_ where Constantine was. Alex gritted his teeth and did his best impersonation of his brother.

"We do have it under control, Lyle. We've terminated the employee."

Lyle raised an eyebrow at this new information and then he took a step back as if considering.

"Well, that's good to hear," he said eventually. "I'll be going now, Alex. I just wanted to assure you that myself and the other boys are right behind you." He walked back to the door. "See you at the next get together."

_Right behind you… _Yeah. With sharp knives. Alex watched Lyle disappear and exhaled slowly. Constantine couldn't come back a moment too soon.

* * *

Rick stood at the top of the extended ladder and grunted as he reached into the gutter and pretended to feel for dirt and blockage. His mind was full of the layout he'd uncovered so far and the conclusion he was fast coming to was that this was going to be a bastard of a job.

The upper floor windows were barred and heavily alarmed and he'd yet to find an in that worked for him. Rick scowled to himself: he'd be damned if he was going to let Rusty find it for him.

He descended the ladder and found Eduardo and a pile of leaves and soil. Rick looked questioningly.

"Just in case anyone wants to see evidence," Eduardo explained and Rick nodded approval. The kid would go far.

* * *

"Mr Taylor? Have you got a moment?"

"Of course, Tony." Alex looked up from the paperwork and smiled. Tony was a welcome interruption.

"I found out what this does." Tony laid the little gizmo that Alex had found the previous evening down on the desk. "It feeds information from the computer it's attached to so that someone outside-"

"-could manipulate the auction." Alex picked it up and stared at it.

"I figure Alisha put it in place," Tony went on. "But I'm going to find out where she got it from."

"OK. Keep me posted." Alex handed it back to Tony.

"Certainly, Mr Taylor."

Finally. Finally, some progress. Alex felt the happiest he had all day.

* * *

Rusty had spent the day drinking coffee and drinking in gossip. It was late afternoon and he was heading back to Danny's when he suddenly spotted Felicity stood at a bus stop with shopping bags. He cut across traffic and pulled up alongside her.

"Going my way?" he asked and Felicity smiled.

Rusty jumped out of the car and opened the door for Felicity, taking the bags off her as she climbed in.

"You should have said you were going shopping," Rusty chided her as they drove off. "I wouldn't have borrowed Bessie."

"Oh, I don't bother taking her out for a little trip like this," Felicity assured him. "The bus is perfectly fine for popping into town. You had fun doing the illegal and confidential?"

Rusty grinned. "I _always_ have fun."

Felicity laughed. "Somehow I don't doubt that." She hesitated for a moment and then asked, "How long have you known Danny?"

"Couple of weeks or so."

"He's a good man," Felicity said in a voice that brooked no argument and Rusty hid his smile at her tone.

"It's certainly been interesting making his acquaintance."

It had been. Even after this was all over, even after he'd said goodbye to all of them, he knew he wouldn't forget Danny. And that wasn't just about the fact that his memory was what it was. Danny had ended up making an impression without trying.

"He's such a good husband, too," Felicity went on. "That girl…she's not had a happy start to life." She caught sight of Rusty's sideways look. "Oh, I don't know details. Just little things she says and does and it's obvious that before Danny, someone, somewhere took advantage."

Rusty thought about what he'd seen so far of Teresa. The adjectives that came to mind were innocent and trusting and it didn't take much to imagine the someone, somewhere twisting that.

"Danny tells me that you take care of Teresa for him while he's away. And when he was…"

"Away away?" Felicity suggested. "Yes. Yes, I do. I did. And I would again."

"He's so grateful to you for that, you know," Rusty said softly as he turned into the long lane that led down to the two houses.

Felicity nodded. "I know. He tells me every time he comes back. Out loud and in other ways."

They pulled up outside Felicity's house and Rusty walked round to the other side of the car to let Felicity out. He picked up her shopping bags and carried them up the steps.

Felicity opened the front door, took the bags off him and put them inside then turned and beamed at him.

"Thank you," she said sincerely and stood for a moment studying him.

"What is it?" he asked eventually. "I miss my mouth with my hotdog again? You couldn't tell me this earlier?"

Her lips twitched.

"I was thinking how different you are to Rick."

Rusty remembered how Felicity had been around Rick. The slight underlying tension. He'd wondered at the time and now, he was wondering even more. What he knew of Rick was that he could be volatile and aggressive and…he looked in sudden horror at Felicity.

"Has Rick said something to you?" he demanded. "Has he done something? Because I'll-"

"No! No," Felicity assured him, laying a hand on his arm. "Nothing like that."

"You're sure? 'Cos-"

"I'm sure. It's just…" she dropped her gaze. "I've seen the way he looks at Teresa. I've caught him looking. He caught me watching."

He covered her hand with his. "You said anything-"

"-to Danny? No." Felicity shook her head. "Nothing to say." She looked up at Rusty and whispered, "I just couldn't bear the thought of him…"

She trailed off and Rusty nodded acknowledgement of the end of the sentence.

* * *

"Tony! Tony! Wait up!"

Tony turned round to see Davey hurtling down the street after him and he sighed inside. He had five men in his crew. Five men whom he trusted to work effectively and to keep in line – even Nelson, edgy and maybe borderline psycho. Davey, though… Davey was like the younger brother who followed you when you just wanted to be with your friends. A wannabe who shouldn't even _be_ on staff. Who _wouldn't_ be on staff if Tony had his way.

Unfortunately, Tony didn't have any say in it. Mr Constantine and Davey's sister had had a bit of an understanding a year or so back and although that understanding had died away, Davey had been taken on as a favour and was still very much around.

"Tony!" Davey had caught up with him, and stood there, panting heavily, eagerness all over his flushed face. "Anything I can help with?"

Tony considered for a moment. "Alright, Davey. Come with me."

"Sure thing, Tony, sure thing. You want me to-"

Tony held up a hand. "You don't get to say a word."

Davey blinked a couple of times and then nodded and Tony smiled inside, satisfied that he would get some peace and quiet. At least until Davey forgot.

* * *

"Hello?" Rusty ventured as he walked into the house.

"Through here," came a hoarse whisper and he walked through to find Danny sitting on the couch with Teresa curled into his side and asleep.

"_To Have and Have Not" _was playing soundlessly on the television and Rusty sat down in the chair next to Danny and grinned.

"You make a habit of this?" he whispered.

Danny grinned back. "Appears so."

They sat and watched Bogart and Bacall for a while and then Rusty sat forward.

"Is it alright to grab a coffee? You want one?"

"Love one."

"OK. I'm going to the kitchen. You want me, you whistle. You know how to whistle, don't you?"

Danny's chuckle was soundless but his body shook.

In the kitchen, Rusty heard the front door go and stuck his head round the door to see Eduardo and Rick walk in.

"Teresa's asleep," he warned in a low voice. "I'm making coffee. You two want a cup?"

"Sure," Ed said gratefully and Rick gave a sullen nod.

"See you've lost none of your charm," Rusty murmured to himself, filling up the kettle.

* * *

All through the evening meal, Rusty found himself thinking about what Felicity had said. He realised he didn't doubt at all what Felicity had shared and maybe that was what Rick got for being one step too far down the dislikeable bastard route. He watched how Rick was with Teresa but Rick wasn't anything less than well-mannered. Probably for Danny's benefit, Rusty thought grimly. He watched Teresa instead but Teresa was as smiling and affectionate with Ed and him himself as she was with Rick. Reluctantly, Rusty pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

Dinner cleared away and Teresa heading for bath and bed, the four of them sat at the table with a pack of cards and a game of poker and a bottle of whisky. Teresa smiled and bid them all goodnight and they waited until the door shut upstairs and then the cards were put down and Hemingford Grey was the topic of discussion.

"So what did you find out today with your investigations?" Rick asked, putting a meaning in the last word that twisted it into the not important and the possibly perverted.

Rusty bared his teeth at him across the table.

"Hemingford is a self-made man-"

"Got that from the kid yesterday," Rick interrupted and Danny shushed him with an angry glare.

"Hemingford is a self-made man," Rusty began again. "He made his fortune through insider dealing and quit before anything official could be pinned on him. He doesn't have a wife or a boyfriend or a girlfriend but he does enjoy visiting Miss Sadie's once a fortnight. Man fancies himself as a serious art collector and keeps an eye out for pieces at auction. In reality, his collection is distinctly average and for every piece he picks up for a song, there are another three that he's paid through the nose for. Hemingford pays well and on the whole, has loyal staff who have been with him years-"

"Where are you getting all this from?" Rick stared at him in disbelief.

Rusty shrugged.

"Like I said, he has loyal staff, on the whole."

"Anything more?" Danny asked.

"He dresses well, he's precious about his nouveau riche status and he boasts about his alarm systems." Rusty thought for a moment. "I'd say that's it. Doubt we need his inside leg measurement."

He saw the jibe rise to Rick's lips before Rick realised he was being bated.

"How'd you two get on?" Rusty asked.

Rick launched immediately into a full report of the day and Rusty registered the words with part of his brain but he was suddenly caught by Danny sitting the other side of the table from him. Danny's eyes were down on the table and he looked as if he were half-listening to Rick and wholly not engaged with the job. Rusty couldn't even begin to guess why. Except...the faintest of frowns creased his brow.

"So, the upper windows are all out," Rick said. "I figure we go in through the dining room and head up the back staircase. If we can get into the camera system, we can divert them away from the gallery. We'll probably need a distraction and an inside man but I figure the kid can run the distraction - that OK with you, kid?"

"Sure-"

"-and I can probably get back inside and wait. You two can..." Rick stopped. "Are you two even listening to me?"

Danny's eyes came guiltily back into focus.

"Of course."

Rick rounded on Danny. "You even bother looking at the plans and the schematics? You even care about getting this painting back?"

Without waiting for an answer, he glared across the table at Rusty. "You. You're like a- a-" As Rusty raised an eyebrow at the inarticulate, he swung back to Danny. "Plan, Danny," he spat. "Views."

Danny licked his lips and started talking and every word was reluctant.

"We can go in at night," he said tonelessly. "We wait a couple of nights till the moon isn't full. We-we-" he licked his lips again. "We get into the alarm and the camera system and we divert the cameras and we kill the alarms. Exit through the kitchen."

There was a silence and then Rusty saw Rick sit back with a satisfied nod and Ed frown and then nod uncertainly. Danny was looking back down at the table.

"Bullshit."

The profanity was loud and meant and three pairs of eyes were on him. He only had eyes for Danny.

"Tell me what you really think," Rusty said. He leaned across the table and thumped Danny in the chest. "Tell me what's inside here."

Rick was spluttering and Ed was open-mouthed and Rusty didn't care. He stared unblinking at Danny and he refused to let Danny go. Refused to let him even dare to _try_ to deny it. Danny's mouth was working but nothing was coming out.

_Tell me._

_I-_

_Fuck it, Danny, you tell me. _

"Danny? Danny!" Rick's voice was far away and indignant and insignificant.

"Risk isn't always a bad thing," Rusty said softly.

And then Danny let out a deep breath and his shoulders dropped and it was as if an immense weight had lifted. He started talking and the idea was clever and simple and daring and outrageous. Rusty nodded encouragingly all the way through it and he was hearing the music and seeing the picture. He couldn't stop the smile forming on his face and Danny was smiling right back at him and the world suddenly narrowed until it was just the two of them.


	33. Secret

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: own no part of the Ocean's trilogy.

Chapter Thirty-three: Secret

* * *

Danny had sat as Rick threw out detail after detail and he'd felt as detached as he had before. And it wasn't good, it was in no way good because he had to deliver a plan, a good and solid plan with no risks to keep everyone safe. Rick was still speaking and it was like listening under water. Danny's eyes dropped down to the table and he fought and fought to concentrate, to build up the layers, to see a way through. Everything dissolved before he could hold on to it: waves upon the sand.

_"Are you two even listening to me?"_

"Of course," he'd replied and lied.

With difficulty he'd stammered out fragments of splinters of scraps of a stunted plan that was stillborn the moment it left his lips and even as he was forming the words, he was screaming at himself for doing so. He saw Rick nod and Ed acknowledge and then-

"_Bullshit."_

Rusty. Refusing to accept. Refusing to let _him_ accept.

_"Tell me what's inside here."_

Rusty's eyes. A world of blue and fierce that engulfed him, swallowed him up and surrounded him. A world of _alive_ and _possibility_ and _truth _that washed over him.

_Tell me._

Honesty. Raw and ugly and frightening and he hung on with a contrary desperation to what he knew, to Rick and the ordinary, to playing safe and not taking chances.

_"Risk isn't always a bad thing."_

Danny let out a breath he didn't realise that he'd been holding and gave up the battle. The restless feeling that had been rustling through him resolved itself into the ridiculous and the risky and he started delineating it. With every word he used to define it, to make it live, he saw it registering with Rusty, saw Rusty breathing it with him.

By the time he'd finished, all he was looking at was Rusty, all he was seeing was Rusty and his heart was singing with the joy of being understood, of being known, of flying high…

"Danny…"

Rick's voice and he hit the ground with a bump. Turning his head, he saw Eduardo with a look of inexplicable unhappiness flashing across his face and Rick sitting next to him, staring at him with tight anger and fear.

"Broad daylight…" Rick whispered and his voice was full of that anger and fear.

"Rick," Danny began, "it'll be-"

"Broad daylight," Rick said again and his voice was louder and no less full of emotion. "And all he has to do is pick up the phone..."

"But-"

"-that's-"

"-it doesn't-"

"-even if-"

"Stop it!" Rick cried. "Stop it!"

They both fell silent and Danny didn't need to glance at Rusty to see him close up and fall back and away from the conversation and the connection but still somehow offering complete support.

Danny reached out a hand and squeezed Rick's shoulder reassuringly and spoke with absolute confidence.

"Rick. We can do it. And it'll work."

* * *

The level of tension in the atmosphere had remained despite explanation and detail and planning. Rusty felt the lines of relationship drawn up differently, strangely. He and Danny on one side, Ed and Rick on the other. He and Danny, working to convince with Rick asking the occasional sullen question and Ed, sitting and saying nothing and remote and far away.

Now, Rusty was up in his room and shrugging off his jacket and running a hand through his hair and trying to reason with himself why the distance between Ed and himself felt so very wrong. His bedroom door opened and he turned and saw Eduardo standing there.

Words rose to his lips and fell away again at the look in Ed's eyes. So much pain.

"Was any of it true?" Eduardo asked, walking a little way into the room, a little closer to Rusty. "Any of the things you said about me being smart or talented? Having great instincts? Being a quick learner?"

Rusty stared at him in genuine bewilderment.

"It was all true," he replied. "It _is_ all true."

Eduardo carried on as if he hadn't spoken.

"Because the thing is, I _know_ you want to work alone. You tell me you don't want a partner and I believe you."

"It's true, too," Rusty whispered and it was, it _was._

Ed nodded. "I know. So it's not that."

"_What's_ not that?"

"It's not that and so what does that leave?" Eduardo stared at him and Rusty saw rich misery in his face. "Is Rick right?"

"Doubt it." Rusty frowned. "About what?"

Eduardo's eyes were unreadable. "Is it him?" he whispered. "Oh, God, it is, isn't it?"

"Ed, I don't know what-"

"Why couldn't it be me?" Eduardo's face was creased with anguish. "Why couldn't it be me you want?"

As he stood, filled with confusion, Ed darted forward and pressed his mouth awkwardly against his. Rusty jerked backwards as if he'd been branded.

"_Jeez,_ Ed. What the fuck…?"

"I'm sorry! I'm so…"

Ed's eyes were wild and then they realised simultaneously that they were not alone. Danny was stood at the open door.

"Fuck," Ed said shakily and ran blindly past Danny and out of the room.

Still in shock, Rusty stared after him.

"You alright?" Danny asked, walking over.

"I'm fine." Rusty waved a dismissive hand. "I just… You catch all that?"

"Only the kiss."

Rusty's hand crept up to his lips. "Yeah." He rubbed at his mouth as if trying to erase the memory. He looked at Danny. "You want something?"

Danny hesitated as if he understood that Rusty had other considerations and then said, "Just to say thank you."

Rusty smiled. "You don't need to say that."

"Yes, I do," Danny corrected him. "I want to."

"Well, we'll sort out the details tomorrow. Right now, I need to go and sort out Ed."

* * *

Rick stood and brushed his teeth violently and then spat out the toothpaste and imagined Rusty's face was the basin. Danny hadn't heard a word of the information he'd uncovered. Hadn't paid the slightest bit of attention to the schematics or the layout. And instead of a sensible, straightforward smash and grab job, Danny was electing for what was in Rick's view something ever so slightly more complicated.

He stared at the mirror and wished with all his heart that they had never laid eyes on Rusty Ryan.

* * *

Ed's door was closed and Rusty hesitated and then gently knocked. There was no answer and when he opened the door and stepped inside, Eduardo was curled under a duvet, facing the wall. Rusty pushed the door to and stared at the huddled shape.

"Just leave me alone, Rusty." From somewhere under the duvet, Ed's voice sounded weary and resigned.

"Can't do that, Ed," he replied and sat down on the bed.

"Forget what I said. Forget what I did. Please."

"Can't do that either," Rusty said softly. "I need you to talk to me."

There was a sigh and then dully, "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to sit up and look at me and start making sense. Because I didn't understand a word of what just happened."

There was another sigh and then Eduardo emerged and sat up in the bed, not meeting Rusty's eyes. Rusty laid a hand on his arm.

"Look at me, Ed."

Reluctantly, Eduardo lifted his gaze.

"OK. Good." Rusty exuded reassurance. "Now. You asked me if I meant what I said about you."

A nod.

"I meant every single word."

The flicker in Ed's eyes told Rusty that he was hearing the sincere and the honest.

"What has Rick been saying?" Rusty asked.

Eduardo's eyes shifted but Rusty wouldn't let him look away.

"Said you wanted Danny." Eduardo swallowed and then elaborated, "Wanted to sleep with Danny. Wanted Danny to..."

He broke off and dropped his gaze and Rusty didn't need the end of the sentence. Rusty mentally rained down curses on Rick and then reached over and lifted Ed's chin up so he could see his eyes again, so Ed could see _his_ eyes and know the truth.

"I don't want to sleep with Danny."

Eduardo let out a kind of sob and cry and nodded to show he believed him.

"I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm sorry, Rusty, I'm so sorry. I saw you two downstairs and you were away in this world of your own and..."

"It's OK, Ed."

It was. It was all about jealous distance and guilt rose up in him because he never meant to hurt Ed like that. He squeezed Eduardo's arm and Ed's face was relaxing now and he was nearly back to being Ed except there was one more question in there.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You say you want to work on your own-"

"I do."

"Tell me, Rusty. If you were on your own, would you want Danny as a partner?"

Rusty shook his head. "Danny's got a partner."

"Not my question."

There was no more than a fraction of a second before he answered. A fraction of a second in which he imagined working with Danny, taking the wonderful plans and the marvellous ideas and turning them into 3-D reality.

"I don't want a partner," he said.

Ed's eyes told him the answer had come a fraction of a second too late.

"I don't want a partner," he said again stubbornly. "I'm not hooking up with Danny."

He wasn't. He didn't want Danny and he didn't want Ed. He didn't _need_ anyone.

"Preparation tomorrow," he said, all business. "Con the day after. And then I'm going to take the Canaletto back to Doug. Well, me and either Rick or Danny. Payday and all that. While I'm gone, I want you to take the Dollar back to the man who lent it. Man named Carter. He's a good man to know and I want you to meet him." He stood up. "You OK with that?"

"Yeah," Ed whispered. "I'm just fine."

"Good. Sleep well. See you in the morning."

Rusty turned on his heel and walked back to his room and pushed away the sight of Ed's unhappy face.

* * *

…_Fat Joe's. Again. Watching Willoughby taking Danny out of the room to waiting pain and punishment and he was screaming wordlessly at Danny and Danny's eyes were full of the knowledge of what was going to happen to him…_

…_Fat Joe's. Again but with a difference. This time, he was stood shoulder to shoulder with Danny and Willoughby was pointing a gun at both of them. The tension was rippling through him and he was trying to judge the distance between him and Willoughby, trying to work out if he had enough time…_

_And then Willoughby became Mitch and the tension turned into disbelief and he felt the horror in Danny at his side. _

"_You dumb fucks," Mitch said softly…_

…_Fat Joe's again. Danny lying helpless and hurting on the floor, again. Rick, bloody and lifeless and he ran to Rick with a sob and folded him to him and held him tight. Again…_

Rusty woke up, sweating profusely. Fuck. What the _fuck_ was this all about?

* * *

Breakfast was a quiet affair.

Danny sat and saw Eduardo, hesitant and awkward; Rick, silent and tight-mouthed; Rusty, with an air of uncharacteristic weariness, pressing a glass of orange juice to the side of his face. All of them shut off and isolated.

He waited until Teresa was away from the table and then he leaned forward and he felt as he had that morning back at Maria's. Confident and commanding and he wanted to give them all this feeling of invincibility.

"We're nearly there," he began and saw Rusty, immediately and guiltily sit upright and engage.

"Today, we prepare."

He got Eduardo's attention and smiled at him, letting him see that the scene last night with Rusty was nowhere near his thoughts, letting him see the belief and the buzz. He was rewarded by a quick smile back and the slightest of nods.

"Tomorrow, it's showtime."

Rick was staring at him with a silent plea. Rick was asking him to change his mind. Rick was reminding him about Belize. Danny felt his resolve almost falter but he kept his gaze reassuring and determined and Rick dropped his gaze and nodded slow acceptance.

"Alright," Rick said. "Where do we start?"

* * *

Working the con was all about timing and timing permeated everything.

Danny was out working on the visuals.

Rusty was out working on the technical.

Rick and he had been working on transport. As he pulled up outside Danny's, Eduardo looked at the other car already parked up and guessed that Rick had beaten him back.

Eduardo sat behind the wheel and looked up at the house and thought grimly about the previous night. To be honest, he hadn't thought of much else all day. What an idiot he'd been. So in turmoil and so undone by the sight of Rusty, looking at Danny and almost _glowing_… And God, the _kiss…_

"Idiot," he told himself, punching the wheel. "Idiot, idiot, _idiot_."

He sighed. _Focus on the job,_ he told himself savagely. He needed to make the most of the time and Rusty and not spoil these final moments with stupidity.

The front door was open and Eduardo headed in and up the stairs, thinking to grab a quick shower. The warm spell of weather was still upon them.

As he reached the landing, the door to Danny's bedroom sprang open and Rick was there, bare-chested, fastening his pants and Eduardo stared at him stupidly, not understanding a thing. Not understanding as Rick strode towards him, face flushed, jaw set, eyes full of aggression. Not understanding as Rick barrelled him back into his own room and slammed the door to and slammed him up against the wall.

"You say nothing," Rick told him fiercely and Eduardo still stared uncomprehendingly.

"About wha-"

Rick's arm was up against his windpipe.

"You say nothing!" he hissed.

And finally Eduardo got it and his eyes widened in shock and disbelief and very real anger.

"You say a word to Danny…you breathe a word to that faggotty partner of yours…you know what'll happen? Danny and I will be over in a heartbeat. You want to think about what that'll mean? You saw the two of them last night. Off in a world of their own."

Eduardo's eyes must have given away the fact that yes, he'd seen exactly what Rick had seen. Rick pulled his arm away from his throat and settled instead for leaning in close, his face in Eduardo's.

"If Danny's on his own, Rusty'll dump you in a flash. You know that, right?"

He thought of Rusty sitting on his bed in this very room and the tiniest little flicker of wonder that he'd seen sparking through him. He nodded and Rick appeared to be satisfied.

Rick straightened up.

"After tomorrow, we're done. We never have to see each other ever, ever again. We all go our separate ways, Danny starts thinking straight again and you two ride off into the sunset and fuck each other senseless. The end. Right?"

The end. Right. Eduardo nodded soundlessly.

"So you do not breathe a word. Agreed?"

One more day. One more day of working with Rusty. _(And still, there was the chance – the faintest smear of a chance – somewhere, somehow that Rusty might change his mind…)_ If all this came out into the open…

"Alright," Eduardo heard himself saying and Rick clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good kid. You know it makes sense. I'm going to grab a shower. I'll see you downstairs."

* * *

Dinner had been purgatory. Eduardo had felt Rusty's eyes on him, could see the almost puzzling look in Rusty's face and had smiled falsely and brightly at him. Rusty backed off at once and Eduardo laughed bitterly inside because he knew that was all about the previous evening and Rusty not wanting to stir up any more tumult.

Watching Danny and Teresa hurt. Danny smiling and laughing and Teresa with her eyes shining up at him: Eduardo wanted to run to the bathroom and throw up.

Rick was subdued. Eduardo knew he was the only one round the table who didn't think that was down to Rick not getting his own way with the job.

When Teresa stood up to clear away the main course, Eduardo sprang up at once to help her and ignored the sudden strain that appeared in Rick's face. He carried the dirty plates out to the kitchen and knew that he had to tackle Teresa.

"Teresa," he began and realised he had no real clue what he was going to say.

She smiled at him guilelessly and maybe the best way was to blurt out the truth.

"I saw Rick this afternoon coming out of your bedroom. Did he…did he hurt you?" he finished in a low voice.

"No! Of course not," she laughed. "We just had sex."

The matter-of-fact completely threw him.

"What do you mean you just had sex?" he asked, bewildered and her hand flew up to her mouth.

"Oh, it's a secret!" she whispered, horrified at herself. "You mustn't tell! I'm not supposed to tell!"

"Rick say that to you?"

She nodded earnestly.

"He tell you not to say a thing to Danny too?"

"Yes, but it's alright," she explained. "Danny knows."

"Danny _knows?" _he said incredulously.

Teresa's eyes were full of conviction.

"Danny sends him to look after me," she explained. "Like another husband. My second husband," she added and it sounded like a quote.

"Rick told you that too, right," Eduardo said heavily.

"Yes," she beamed. "Not when Danny's around, obviously."

"Obviously."

"He does love me," she said and her eyes were trying to ease the emotion that was ripe in Eduardo's face. "He tells me so."

"You forget where you left the pie?"

Rick's voice drawled across the kitchen behind him and Eduardo swallowed hard.

"Secret," Teresa mouthed at him and fetched the pie out of the oven.

* * *

As he dug into the cherry pie, the feeling of ebullience was still alive in Danny. Even though he knew that Rick was going along with the plan under sufferance. Even though whatever had happened last night between Eduardo and Rusty seemed to have knocked the kid's confidence and left him still withdrawn and monosyllabic.

He looked round the table and couldn't stop the exhilaration bleeding out in his eyes, in his smile.

The plan was good. The plan was sound. And nothing could shake the inner feeling of success.


	34. Hemingford Grey

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: *checks small print* *sighs* Still aren't mine.

A/N: so the problem with writing that an idea is clever and simple and daring and outrageous? Yeah...

A/N 2: yes, yes, am updating at freakish rate. :) No, no, I don't know if it'll last. But thank you to everyone who's leaving feedback and encouragement. It makes me want to write even faster than normal. ;)

Chapter Thirty-four: Hemingford Grey

* * *

Hemingford Grey sat at the breakfast table and looked down at the card that Oakley handed to him. He wiped the toast crumbs from his mouth with his napkin and frowned.

"He's outside?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, show the man into the front room, Oakley. I'll be along immediately."

"Very good, sir."

Oakley withdrew with the graceful deference that Hemingford paid him for. As he did so, Hemingford turned the neat business card over in his hands. He had no idea what the man wanted and Hemingford didn't like surprises.

* * *

The stranger was stood looking out of the window when Hemingford walked into the front room. Dark-haired and personable and smartly dressed and smiling and Hemingford felt the ripple of charisma wash over him. All the years spent in the cut-throat business world of dog eat dog and back-stabbing – and he'd done his own share of eating and stabbing - and he fancied himself a good judge of character. This man had a definite presence. He radiated command and authority.

"You're from Larner's, Mr…" he looked down again at the card he was holding.

"Taylor," the other man finished. "Constantine Taylor. And I run Larner's."

Suitably impressed, Hemingford shook Constantine's outstretched hand and approved of the firm handshake.

"How can I help you, Mr Taylor?"

"Constantine, please," the man smiled. "Do you read the newspapers, Mr Grey?"

"I read them," he nodded slowly.

"You may have read an article recently about an unfortunate and regrettable incident at Larner's. One of our employees caused us some deep embarrassment."

Constantine's voice grew hushed and even though he didn't really understand why, Hemingford felt himself grow sympathetic. Come to think about it, he did recall reading something about Larner's. Something minorly scandalous…

"I'm sorry to hear that, Mr Tay- Constantine." There was a pause. "Please do take a seat. Oh, and do call me Hemingford."

A smile lit up Constantine's face as they both sat down. "Thank you, Hemingford."

Hemingford hesitated a moment. "Something about a…" he gave a delicate cough, "a fake, wasn't it?"

Constantine nodded gravely. "It was certainly a shock to us. We pride ourselves on our reputation. Doesn't do for an auction house to lose face."

"No, I can imagine."

Constantine leaned forward. "What I am about to say…and I must ask you, Hemingford, for your _absolute_ discretion..."

A thrill of secrecy and inclusion ran through him.

"Certainly, certainly," he assured.

"The employee in question has been dealt with. However, we can't take the chance that previous items she handled haven't been…" Constantine hesitated. "…contaminated. So what I'm doing is personally visiting successful bidders-"

"-to check." He got it. "The Canaletto! Oh, God, the Canaletto!"

Aghast, he sprang to his feet and Constantine stood up, laying a placating hand on his arm.

"Please don't worry, Hemingford. I'm certain the painting is completely genuine. If I can just take a look."

* * *

Hemingford stood at Constantine's shoulder and stared anxiously at the Canaletto hanging on the wall. There'd been a long, long silence and Hemingford was dying quietly with every single second that passed. The Canaletto had been such a find, such an addition to his collection. Dry-mouthed, he waited as Constantine scrutinised the brushstrokes and the pigment.

"Well?" he croaked, when he could bear it no longer.

Constantine let out a regretful sigh and Hemingford's heart sank.

"Oh, God," he muttered and swayed slightly.

"No, no," Constantine said at once apologetically. "I'm almost certain that it's real, it's just that I don't know for sure. I need to get it checked out by my people."

Hemingford let out a shaky sigh.

"Complete discretion, Hemingford, you have my word. After all, it's in both our interests."

Hemingford nodded agreement and thanks.

"It's all alarmed up, Constantine, but I can have it stripped and crated-"

"-that would be terrific, Hemingford." Constantine checked his watch. "I have another call to make in the area but I'd like to call back in say, four hours or so? Would that be convenient?"

"Absolutely," he nodded vigorously.

They walked back through the gallery and Constantine paused to admire a couple of his other pieces. Hemingford swelled with pride.

"Oakley, have the Canaletto taken down and boxed up, will you?" he instructed, as they walked back through the house.

As he personally showed Constantine out and watched him climb into his car and drive away, Hemingford felt comforted and slightly honoured that the owner of Larner's himself had taken the trouble to come and see him.

* * *

Half an hour later, Hemingford was having second thoughts. Somewhere along the line, his long dormant business instincts had woken up and started demanding to know what he thought he was playing at. He hadn't met Constantine before this morning. And OK, yes, the story was perfectly plausible but that didn't mean it was true. Hell, he himself had lied enough in his career to get what he wanted and it wasn't like he'd invented untruths.

He'd liked the man. That was the thing. The man had stood in front of him and been charming and everything had had the ring of truth and Hemingford had liked him.

And now, he was going to hand over one of his prize paintings to a total stranger. He groaned. When had he got so sloppy? He stared down at the card with Larner's logo and address and telephone number. Well, he could always check.

He was halfway through dialling the number when it occurred to him that if Constantine- he corrected himself – if the man had gone to all this trouble, it was likely that the number on the business card wasn't genuine either. Searching through his bureau, he found the paperwork for the Canaletto and with a shaking hand, he dialled the New York number.

"You've reached Larner's," the girl on reception declared. "How may I direct your call?"

"Mr Constantine Taylor, please."

"Mr Taylor is away on business at present."

On business. Hemingford felt some of the tension leaving him. That sounded reassuring.

"We're expecting Mr Taylor to return from his overseas trip in a week or so – can I take a message or can anyone else help you, sir?"

Overseas… Hemingford felt the adrenaline rush through him. If Constantine Taylor was overseas, then he had certainly not been standing in his front room less than an hour ago.

"Sir, could Mr Alex Taylor help you? He's in charge of Larner's in Mr Constantine Taylor's absence."

"Yes," Hemingford licked his lips. "Alex Taylor. Yes, please."

The phone rang a couple of times and then a young man's voice came on the line. Young and with hints of hesitancy. "This is Alex Taylor. You wanted to speak to my brother?"

"Yes. This is Hemingford Grey. A few weeks ago, I purchased a Canaletto through yourselves-"

"Mr Grey! Oh, I remember, of course." The voice sounded happier and lighter and Hemingford idly wondered why.

He took a deep breath and told his story.

* * *

Alex had been appalled. The man was an imposter. His brother, Constantine, wasn't in Vermont and certainly wasn't checking up on past customers of Larner's.

"I've got the painting all ready to go," Hemingford said weakly, feeling sick.

"Don't give it to that man, whatever you do," Alex warned.

"No chance of that," Hemingford promised fervently. "He's coming back in three hours and he's going to go away empty-handed."

"Good. Good." Alex sounded relieved.

Hemingford hesitated for a moment and then he went on the attack.

"How did this man get my details, Mr Taylor? How did he know to come looking for me? I want an immediate investigation."

"Of course," Alex said at once.

"Good." Hemingford delivered the coup de grace. "Because I'd hate to have to go to the press."

The threat hung in the air between them.

"Actually…hold the line, please, Mr Grey."

There was the muffled sound of a conversation and then Alex came back on line.

"At Larner's we pride ourselves on customer service, integrity and discretion. I want to reassure you that Larner's takes this very seriously. This isn't what Larner's is about."

"Damn right too."

"I'm going to come down to see you personally, Mr Grey. I'll be with you later today."

"Good." Hemingford decided to make the most of the moment. "And maybe we can discuss some financial compensation."

There was a moment's silence and then, "Of course. And thank you for phoning, Mr Grey."

"It was the obvious thing to do," Hemingford said dismissively, the knot in his stomach unravelling. He didn't like tasting fear.

He looked down at the crated painting and smiled. The day might have started badly but it was definitely getting better.

* * *

Alex Taylor arrived sooner than he expected. Oakley escorted the young brown-haired man in to see him and Hemingford thought he vaguely recognised the man from the auction weeks ago. More to the point, he took in the nervous air and the eager to please expression and knew that he could manipulate this situation to his advantage.

"I'm so sorry, Mr Grey. I was completely horrified when I heard what had happened. The man hasn't been back yet, has he?"

"No." Hemingford was slightly sorry about that. He wanted to give the man a piece of his mind.

"Good." Alex looked relieved. "Good."

"Not good that he was here in the first place," Hemingford snapped and was pleased to see the flush in the other man's cheeks. "So. Tell me what Larner's is going to do for me."

* * *

Hemingford relaxed with an afternoon coffee and reread the business pages of the paper. Maybe he would invest some of the money that Alex had promised him in a little flirtation on the stockmarket. Perhaps he should look up his old contacts and see what whispers there were that he could follow up. Mergers, acquisitions, flotations… There were always deals to be done, money to be made.

A satisfied smile crept over his face. Alex had done everything but grovel on the floor in front of him. He'd offered money as remedial damages, he'd offered to take the Canaletto back for a free reevaluation, he'd suggested he put Hemingford on the preferred customer list for advance notice of lots… Hemingford had taken him up on everything.

Yes. All in all, it had been a very satisfying day.

"Mr Grey?"

Hemingford looked up in shock. Oakley had sounded perturbed. Oakley never sounded perturbed. Perturbed was definitely not part of the job description.

"What is it, Oakley?"

Oakley held out the business card and disbelievingly, Hemingford read it.

"Where is he?" he demanded.

There were two of them. A big man with shoulders that looked like they'd been squeezed into the suit they occupied and another man who smiled nervously at Hemingford.

"Mr Grey, I'm Alex Taylor. We spoke earlier."

Hemingford stared at him.

"On the telephone?" the man went on uncertainly. He looked at his companion and then tried again. "You had someone here impersonating my brother?"

The words reached him from far away.

"Mr Grey? Mr Grey? Are you alr-?"

He launched himself forward and gripped the man's lapels. "You're lying," he snarled. "You have to be. Who are you? Who _are_ you?"

Hands firmly removed him and he found himself in the grip of the other bigger man.

"You OK, Mr Taylor?" the bigger man rumbled.

"I'm fine, Tony. Please let Mr Grey go."

The hands released him at once but with an unspoken warning that distracted as he was, Hemingford understood.

"_You're _Alex Taylor?" he whispered. "You're really Alex Taylor."

Brown eyes looked back at him in complete confusion. "I really am."

* * *

Four pairs of eyes were staring at the Canaletto in the front room of Danny's house.

"Well done, everyone," Danny murmured softly.

"He'll find the telephone tap," Rick muttered. "He'll work it out."

"Rick? Shut the fuck up," a blond-again-Rusty suggested without heat.

Rick's head snapped round, ready to pick an argument but Danny's hand was on his arm, telling him to let it go.

Rusty glanced at Eduardo at his side. "Success, Ed," he said lightly.

Eduardo was frowning and wide-eyed in wonder as if he didn't quite believe it had been so simple. So easy. It had been easy. Ridiculously so. Rusty looked past the disgruntled and the awe on show and studied Danny. Danny seemed to be growing somehow. Already, Rick looked pale and smaller by comparison even though he was a similar height and a bigger build.

Then Danny turned his head and caught his eye and Danny smiled and the smile was freedom and amazing and Rusty was unaware that his own smile was just as brilliant and blinding.

* * *

Alex sat in the chair in Constantine's office and sipped a large whisky. He felt he deserved it. Today had been another day where he wished that he was somewhere else. Colombia, actually. He thought enviously of Constantine, miles away and with no phone calls with Mr Fitzwilliam or visits from Lyle or trips to Vermont to see crazy clients. Men with guns and drugs seemed a pleasant alternative.

Hemingford Grey. That had been bizarre beyond words. He'd tried to help the man, to stop the man being robbed and ended up the unwitting catalyst. The phone call had been tapped. He'd worked that much out on the plane back. And Grey had stared at him as if he'd somehow connived with the conmen. It had taken a lot of talking and denial and Tony to convince Grey otherwise. He took another drink and laid his head back against the leather. Surely he was due some good news.

As if in answer, his phone rang. It was Tony.

"Mr Taylor? I have a firm lead on where the device you found may have come from."

"You're still working, Tony?" Alex frowned. It was heading towards ten o'clock.

"I never stop, Mr Taylor." Not reproachful, not obsequious. Just a statement. "I'm busy investigating. I just wanted you to know that I think I may have something to report shortly."

"Thank you, Tony."

"My pleasure, Mr Taylor."

* * *

Danny sat on the couch and sipped his whisky and stared at the Canaletto, repackaged up and ready to be delivered to a delighted Doug Quentin. The phone call had been full of praise and thanks and all of it seemed to be directed at Danny. The call had been on speaker phone and he'd tried desperately to deflect the gushing. All to no avail. Eduardo had given a small smile and Rick had scowled and Rusty's eyes had been laughing and he himself had been embarrassed beyond reason.

"_You_ take the damn painting back tomorrow," he muttered when he'd hung up.

"Sure." Rick and Rusty spoke together and looked at each other with a scowl and a grin.

Rick had gone to bed shortly afterwards. If Danny didn't know better, he'd have called it sulking. Actually, who was he kidding? Sulking was exactly what it was. And tomorrow or the day after, Danny was going to have to address that but right now... Teresa was busying herself in the kitchen. Eduardo and Rusty were talking on the verandah. He sipped his whisky and continued to study the recovered Canaletto.

The con had gone so smoothly, so eloquently. He felt achievement dance through his blood. It was fair to say he hadn't felt like this in an age. Part of him was murmuring about when he'd feel like this again but he told that part to be silent. He was living for the moment.

* * *

Outside, Rusty was giving Carter Pryce's address and the Gobrecht Dollar to Ed and keeping his voice steady and even and not giving anything away in the slightest.

"Carter's a good guy," he told Ed. "He knows people."

Eduardo's fingers were closed around the piece of paper and the box with the coin.

"You're putting a lot of trust in me," he said in a low voice.

Rusty sighed inside. This was last night talking. Ed feeling unworthy, full of low self-esteem and really, he had no need to feel anything of the sort. OK, so today, it had been about him and Danny. Centre stage. Danny had taken the lead and he had followed up and both parts had been dangerous. The danger had been thrillsome. They'd worked out of a busy parking lot not too far away from Hemingford's place and the worst part had been judging the timing for Alex to arrive from New York.

_"Suppose he calls someone local instead of coming himself," Rick had muttered. "Suppose he calls the police. Suppose-"_

_"Suppose we just focus," Danny suggested lightly and Rick looked like he'd been burnt._

Ed had been mostly quiet through the whole thing. He'd not looked much at any of them and part of Rusty wanted to get hold of him and shake him and make him tell him what was wrong. Except that last night's kiss was still fresh in Rusty's mind.

It still was. Ed looked so out of sorts and any other time, he'd have got to the bottom of it. But right here, right now, Rusty was certain he knew what the story was. The stories, in fact. The Danny factor for sure and there were times today when he'd had to guiltily stop himself from basking in the radiance and the sunshine on show. Rick had glared at both of them and he didn't mind that in the slightest. But Ed had looked like he was going to burst into tears and he didn't want to upset him more than necessary. Because the other story going on here was that the Quentin job was officially over. Ed and him were officially over. Just a few loose ends and then that was it. Separate ways. Freedom again. No one but himself to think about. He told himself he couldn't wait.

And if he didn't want to think too long and too hard about life with no Ed in it, he told that part to be silent. Sure, there might be a point when he'd miss Ed being there. After two years, that wouldn't be a surprise. But he'd be prepared and when it came, he'd handle the moment.

* * *

Rick lay on his bed and felt the resentment and the frustration burn through him at fever pitch.

The con should never have worked. It had been a level of risk beyond anything acceptable. Face to face with the mark, not once but twice. Variables that couldn't be controlled. Depending on Danny to dazzle and Rusty to act. It should never have worked but fuck it, it had. Getting Danny to do the reasonable, sensible thing would be a hundred times more difficult now. Rick had seen the light in Danny's eyes and he'd wanted to scream. This wasn't the way things were supposed to _be. _Rick felt ridiculous tears prickling at the back of his eyes and he blinked them away furiously. Rusty Ryan. Fucking Rusty fucking Ryan. Still. It was nearly over. So nearly. He only had to get through tomorrow and then he was rid of the man.

He'd opened his mouth to object when he'd realised it was going to be Rusty and him taking the painting back to Doug. And then he'd had a flash of the alternative. _Danny_ and Rusty travelling together. Laughing, smiling, joking. Bright and easy. Who knew how many impossible jobs they'd have planned by the time they got back again? And maybe that would be all it took, that one journey, to convince Danny he wanted a change of partner. No. Better that he grit his teeth and go with Rusty instead.

Of course, that left the kid with Danny. Not ideal either. Eduardo didn't _look_ like he was going to spill the beans but you could never tell. Fuck it. Like Danny was going to listen to a wet kid like Eduardo.

Yesterday had been a mistake, Rick knew that. Just that he'd been so careful since Danny had got out and desire had encouraged him to seize the opportunity.

Teresa. He exhaled slowly and thought of when he'd first met her. Fucking gorgeous and completely unaware of how gorgeous she was. That was so damn sexy in itself.

He'd been respectful though. This was Danny's wife, after all. Trouble was that that didn't stop the longing rising up in him, all the more powerful because he couldn't act on it. Dark hair, dark eyes, creamy skin and curves that clothes clung to. He'd watched her for such a long time. Felicity had caught an unguarded glance or two. She suspected. But he'd looked long before he'd touched. When Danny was inside, he'd been a frequent visitor and somewhere over the two and a half years, what he wanted won out over what was right.

Little things. Tiny moves. Small gestures. And Teresa hadn't slapped his face or screamed and he'd got bolder and used words to convince and persuade and conquer. The girl had done everything he'd wanted in bed. Danny was a lucky guy.

He'd held his breath when Danny'd got out but Teresa hadn't said a word. In fact the only real change was when they were out on a job, she wanted to speak to him too; wanted to ask him if he loved her; wanted to tell him she loved him. All the things she did with Danny. He'd handled it so far. Wasn't sure how the future was going to pan out but then this was all about the moment.

* * *

Eduardo stood and watched Rusty walk away from him down to the beach.

_"Want some air," _Rusty'd said in a voice that had meant _"I want to be alone"._

And now, Eduardo was leaning up against the verandah railing and feeling as if the whole two years of magic was walking away from him down toward the beach too.

He gave a sudden shiver. Rick and Teresa. The secret had been burning his lips from the inside. In spite of what Rick had done and said, he felt he had to say something. But the con had gone so well and Danny had been smiling and Rusty had been smiling and Rick had been looking at them and him as much as to say _"See what I mean"... _

Maybe when this had died down. Maybe when he was back in Europe with Rusty (_please, God)_ or when he was cut loose and flying solo. Maybe then he could say something. It was all about picking the right moment.

* * *

_**SomeTime...SomeWhere...**_

Grey eyes looked down at the swirl of human emotions being played out and then up at the silver eyes opposite.

"Look," he said.

The two threads of gold were close, running parallel, only a hair's breadth between them.

"I don't think I can watch," she whispered.

A silver tear dropped down into the maelstrom and the other thought to object and then decided that at the moment, the players needed all the luck they could get.


	35. Truths

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: didn't create 'em. Just picking the pockets of the writers and pinching them for a while.

A/N: even though she has been responsible for major fic aargh, shudder and whimper today (don't ask. Oh, actually, do ask. Ask her), I would still like to thank otherhawk for the pre-read. Not that she reads A/Ns. Le sigh.

Chapter Thirty-five: Truths

* * *

"Danny…"

Danny looked up from his reverie to see Teresa standing and frowning in front of him. He smiled and then put his whisky down and grabbed her, pulling her down on to his lap, his arms wrapping round her.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

Teresa hesitated.

"I do love Rick, you know."

Danny laughed. "I'm quite fond of him myself. But don't tell him."

"No. No, I won't," Teresa nodded seriously. Again, there was hesitation. "It is alright that I love Rick, isn't it? You don't mind?"

Danny ran a hand over her hair. "I don't mind at all," he said quietly. "He's been a good friend to both of us. I'm pleased you feel that way."

At his words, Teresa relaxed into his arms and Danny held her close, enjoying the warmth and the intimacy. A little over two and a half years and he'd missed her so much.

After a while, she wriggled free and stood up.

"Going up to bed, love?"

She nodded. "You coming?"

His turn to hesitate. The feeling of triumph hadn't left him quite yet and he wanted to savour it a little longer. He caught up her hand and kissed it.

"I'll see you up there."

Teresa disappeared up the stairs and Danny stared contentedly for a few minutes more at the Canaletto. Then he glanced out at Eduardo, standing by himself outside. He drained his glass and picked up the bottle of whisky and a second glass and headed out.

"You on your own?" Danny asked, leaning up against the verandah railing and holding up the whisky.

Eduardo straightened up and looked a little awkward as if he wanted to say something. Then he shook his head at the whisky and leant back down on the railing again.

"Yeah. Rusty's headed for the beach. Says he wants some air."

There was something in the way Eduardo said it, some trace of unhappiness on a night when he himself felt giddy with success and Danny looked curiously at Eduardo, wanting to ease the dejection if he could.

"What is it?" he asked softly. "You two had words?"

There was a long silence as if Eduardo wasn't going to answer or didn't know how to answer. Danny waited and then Eduardo stared out into middle distance and his shoulders dropped and he started talking, his voice low.

"Rusty is the most memorable person I've ever met. Not just…"

In the moonlight, Danny couldn't be sure but he'd have laid money that Eduardo was blushing.

"Not just the way he looks." Eduardo was forcing himself to go on. "He's so…he's…" He stared hard at the lake and then all the words tumbled out on top of each other. "He's clever and he's amazing and there's so much wrapped up in him, so many layers…he's like…like…" Eduardo gave a short laugh. "Like millefeuille."

Danny recognised the description Rusty had used to describe the auction operation at Larner's. He thought about the depth that there was to Rusty. Millefeuille. Layers lying under a glistening surface that most people's eyes would glide over and not even get a glimpse of what magic lay beneath.

"Yeah. Can see that," he murmured.

Eduardo went on like Danny hadn't spoken.

"All these sides to him…the funny and the brilliant…" His tone changed. "And this self-sufficient little centre that I can't stand, that never lets anyone get really close to him, that makes him do stuff he detests because he tells himself it doesn't matter…" Eduardo shook his head. "He thinks I don't know how much he hates it when he sleeps with a mark. I can see every little inch of loathing bubbling away inside him afterwards."

Eduardo's fingers were twisted together and there was real bitterness in his voice that had Danny juggling glasses and bottle to free a hand to put on the young man's shoulder. Eduardo flashed him a miserable smile.

"And then there are times when he looks at you…" Eduardo tailed off and there was a sigh full of emotion and memory. "It's like the brightest sunshine. Warm and dazzling… You feel like the single most important thing in the universe and it's the most wonderful feeling…and…and he has _no one_ who does that for him."

Eduardo's voice was trembling.

"I wanted to be the person who did that for him. I wanted to be the one that he'd reach out to and I wanted to be the one who ran with him breathless all the way to the moon and back. For such a long time I hoped I might be." Eduardo looked up at Danny and tears were rolling down his cheeks. "But I am _never _going to be. I am never going to be _enough_."

"Eduardo…" Danny's brows drew together.

"Sorry. Stupid," Eduardo pulled free and wiped his tears away with his hands. "I knew it early on, I guess…I mean I kept telling myself that maybe I could change things…maybe one day, he'd look at me and… You know what made it finally hit home?" He smiled helplessly. "This job. I saw you two and you just _shine_ together."

"I'm not going to-" Danny said hurriedly, "I don't want- Rusty and me-"

"Oh, I know." Eduardo nodded vigorously. "I know. You've got a partner and Rusty doesn't want one. But maybe, Danny, maybe you _ought _to… Rick…" Eduardo's mouth twisted. "And Rusty should have someone to reach for the stars with-"

"Wait a minute. Back up," Danny interrupted, frowning. "What do you mean Rusty doesn't want a partner?"

Eduardo's mouth opened and closed a couple of times and then he sighed and when he spoke, it was soft and broken.

"Before I met Rusty, he worked alone. No ties that bind. We were only supposed to…three months and it's lasted two years." Eduardo swallowed. "This is our last job together."

"Last job?" Danny repeated, not certain he'd heard correctly. "You're breaking up?"

"Yeah." Eduardo looked down at the little coin box in his hand. "After tomorrow…" He sighed and then said dully, "I'm returning this and coming back here and he's going to go to Doug Quentin with Rick and he thinks I don't get it."

He raised his eyes to Danny's and said tiredly, "Rusty's not coming back again. He'll take his share of the money and he'll go. Just like that." Eduardo clicked his fingers.

Danny stared at him. "He's not…Rusty's going to leave without saying goodbye…?"

_Rusty disappearing without a word…_ Danny didn't want to think about why that idea upset him so much. Eduardo's smile was tight.

"He's gonna walk away without a backward glance." He straightened up and exhaled slowly. "My head is so heavy just thinking about it…I'm going up to bed. I'll see you in the morning, Danny."

"Goodnight, Eduardo."

Danny leaned on the railing for a long moment. Then he stood upright and headed down to the beach.

* * *

"Catching the rays?" Danny asked, dropping down to the moonlit sand beside Rusty, pouring two shots of whisky and wedging the bottle of malt in between them.

"I'm starting to think these tête a têtes on the beach must be the gayest thing ever," Rusty smiled, taking a glass and nodding his thanks.

Danny considered. "Surely only when you're wearing underwear." He took a sip of whisky and waggled his head. "I might want to rephrase that."

Rusty grinned widely, sitting up. "Don't worry. I won't tell Rick."

"Been talking to Eduardo," Danny began casually and he might have imagined the way Rusty's fingers tightened on the whisky glass at Eduardo's name. "I heard the strangest thing."

"What was that?" Rusty asked, throwing the whisky down and reaching for the bottle.

Danny looked at him thoughtfully. "That's prize malt, you know."

"You got a point?"

"No. Just mentioning."

"So what did Eduardo say?" Rusty asked, his gaze down on the glass in his hand.

"That you and he were going separate ways. That this was your last job together and after tomorrow you were splitting up."

"Well, you heard right then," Rusty muttered. There was a pause and then Rusty added, "And I guess you're about to tell me why it's wrong."

Danny took a deep breath. "Eduardo loves you."

Immediately, Rusty shook his head in denial. "Ed's _in_ love with me. There's a difference."

"There is," Danny agreed. "And maybe Eduardo does find you attractive…" He smiled. "You were hardly dealt the ugly hand, were you?"

Rusty tipped his glass.

"But it's not that, Rusty. Eduardo loves you. He just got through telling me how incredible you are, how much you mean to him-"

"My heart bleeds."

Danny ignored him.

"-how unhappy it makes him when you…" Danny's eyes clouded. "When you use yourself."

"We've been over all this," Rusty said with immediate hostility.

"Yes," Danny agreed quietly. "We have."

"Then we don't need to go over it again because I remember what you said, Danny. I've got an excellent memory. Cheap and easy, right?"

"That's right."

"Well, you've got your view and I've got mine," Rusty said dismissively. "We're never gonna agree and unless you want us to end up throwing punches again-"

"No. No, not that."

"Then for fuck's sake, let it drop, Danny!" Rusty was kneeling up and staring at him and there was an edge of desperation in there. "It's the way of the world."

"Forgive me for wanting to do something about it."

"It doesn't matter. Really, Danny, you need to toughen up. It's only sex."

A mirthless smile crept over Danny's face.

"Sex always matters. Being used always matters."

He saw the words bite and he saw Rusty hesitate as he registered that there was something else behind them. Then Rusty's face filled with absolute determined steel: and still the desperation was there, just lying underneath the surface.

"It's _my_ body-" Rusty began.

"Yes, it is. It is _your_ body. This is my point."

The desperation was breaking through in Rusty's expression as if he wanted to argue and couldn't. And Danny realised that there was a story only a waver away.

"How did you get like this?" Danny asked gently.

There was an instant where he thought Rusty might actually run, there and then. For a pause in time, all there was was the sound of the waves lapping up against the shore and then Rusty's shoulders dropped and he sat back heavily on the sand, grabbing the bottle and filling up his glass.

"Once upon a time, there was a man I wanted to find more than anything. I was twenty-one and I'd been looking for him for so, so long."

He broke off and took a long swig of whisky. Danny's brain started making the leaps that it shouldn't be able to.

"This to do with Saul?"

Rusty looked startled as if he'd forgotten that Danny knew Saul had existed and then he nodded abruptly. He was still silent and Danny thought back to his first impressions of Rusty. The fact that if he ever grew serious he'd be dangerous in the extreme. Without Rusty saying a word, he knew the part of the story that Rusty wasn't sharing. Saul had died. This man had been responsible. Rusty had been out to kill. Danny shivered inside.

"I'd done some stuff I wasn't proud of," Rusty went on in a low voice. "I was so close. And this was what the man with the answers wanted. It didn't seem like too much more of a price to pay."

"Sometimes the price is too high," Danny told him quietly.

Rusty lifted his head and his eyes travelled in the direction of the house and Teresa and Rick.

"Sometimes you pay it anyway," Rusty suggested and his tone was light but Danny felt the sting of dark stoicism.

"You paid it often?" he asked and saw Rusty bridle.

"Often enough," Rusty muttered, burying himself in the whisky.

"And what's the triggerpoint? No," as Rusty shook his head irritably, "no, I'm curious. You're so busy telling me it makes no difference, so why not-"

"If I can't find an angle," Rusty said, anger barely controlled. "If there's no other way to get the information I need or no other way to get on the inside…" The anger dropped away from him and he ran a hand tiredly through his hair. "I just do what I need to."

Danny looked at the vulnerability and the misery and he thought of Eduardo's words.

"_I can see every little inch of loathing bubbling away inside him..."_

Danny remembered how Rusty's face when he'd come back from Alex that night. Resigned and tight and full of the matter-of-fact. And down in the bar and the alley when they'd thrown words and punches to hit and hurt and Rusty had been snarling with fury directed inwards as much as outwards.

Rusty's mouth tightened.

"I don't want your pity," Rusty ground out.

"Good, because you're not getting it," Danny told him. "You want to take the easy option-"

"_Easy?_"

"You want to sleep with women and men…" He stopped. Rusty had flinched. An image of last night flashed through Danny's mind. Rusty pulling away from Eduardo's kiss… Realisation dawned.

"You're straight," Danny breathed.

Rusty didn't deny it.

"You're straight," Danny said again, more definite.

"So what?" Rusty demanded. "Does it make any difference?"

"Does Eduardo even know?"

"Subject never came up."

"You don't think he deserves to-"

"It doesn't matter!"

The desperation was back again and Danny stared at him.

"How…what…?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake…" Rusty muttered. He glared at Danny and Danny knew he was reading the question Danny wasn't asking. "Look, the men I end up sleeping with are rarely bothered about my enjoyment. Those that are or I think may be…I tell them what I like."

"And that is?"

Rusty licked his lips. "I tell them I like to be submissive. I tell them I enjoy being dominated."

Danny gave a snort of laughter that stopped at the hell visible in Rusty's eyes. He dropped the whisky glass and reached out and put a hand on Rusty's arm.

"You need to stop this," Danny whispered. Pleaded. Begged.

"It doesn't matter," Rusty whispered back. Insisted. Denied.

Danny wasn't having any of it.

"You keep saying that. And you do. To Eduardo. To Maria."

_To me._

Insistence and denial melted and Rusty crumpled and Danny pulled him into his arms.

"I was wrong," Rusty murmured somewhere over his shoulder. "_This_ is the gayest thing ever."

Danny chuckled softly and felt the laughter trembling back through Rusty. He held on to Rusty and he felt Rusty holding on to him and the closeness felt right, so right… Eventually, he pulled back. Rusty's eyes were shining with what looked suspiciously like tears.

"Promise me," Danny said, his voice thick with emotion, "promise me that if you find yourself looking at the impossible in the future, you'll call me."

Rusty blinked rapidly and then nodded. "I will. As long as the next time Rick tells you something can't be done, you call me."

"It's a deal," Danny said solemnly.

"Time to hit the sack," Rusty suggested and they stood up and made their way back to the house in companionable silence.

Danny caught Rusty's arm at the foot of the staircase. "You still thinking about shaking Eduardo loose?"

Rusty's eyes snapped back to unreadable.

"You are," Danny accused. "You know finding love and loyalty in this life is something to be celebrated not thrown away. This could be the biggest mistake you make."

"Warning duly noted," Rusty told him and pushed past him and up the stairs.

* * *

It was after midnight but the knock was persistent. With a sigh, Perry pottered across his place of work and opened the door.

"Can I help you?" he wheezed, looking up at the man with the broad shoulders and the pleasant smile.

"Indeed, you can, Mr Grafham," the man nodded and suddenly the smile didn't look all that pleasant at all.


	36. An Ending

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: own no part of the Ocean's magic.

Chapter Thirty-six: An Ending

* * *

It was early morning and Tony sat inside the little café diner and cracked his knuckles thoughtfully. It had been a productive discussion with Perry Grafham.

"Here you go, hon," the waitress said, putting a coffee down in front of him.

"Thank you," Tony said politely but the waitress was already on to her next customer.

Tony stirred a spoonful of sugar into the coffee and pulled out his phone. He needed to pass the information on to Mr Constantine. Mr Alex…well, Tony wasn't so sure what Mr Alex would do with the information.

He dialled Mr Constantine's number and waited for him to pick up.

* * *

Rick got down the bottom of the stairs and wandered through to the living area, finding that he wasn't first up. He looked across the room at where Captain Flash was lounging on the couch, map in hand and the feelings of hatred burned deeper than ever.

"Something you want, Rick?" Golden Boy asked without looking round and the tone was dismissive and insolent and Rick gritted his teeth: he wanted more than anything to break this bastard's cool.

"What're you up to?"

There was a shrug as if answering was the least of the man's priorities.

"Rang Doug. We're going to meet up about halfway. Looks like a couple of hours' drive."

Rick had stopped listening. All he could think about was last night and Danny and this flyboy standing in front of the Canaletto and grinning at each other inanely. Danny had been right next to him and at the same time he had been as far away as he'd ever been. All because of Rusty. He needed to show Danny this fag's true colours.

"We're on our own," Rick said softly and for the first time since he'd walked into the room, Rusty raised his head and looked directly at him.

"I guess..." Blue eyes were suddenly questioning and unsure and on edge and Rick loved it.

"There are a few things I'd like to clear up before we all say goodbye."

"Like what?" Defensive and uncertain.

"I've seen the way you look at Danny." He smiled as Rusty flushed. "You can deny it all you want but I know you want to crawl into bed with him."

"I-I-" Hesitant. Licking his lips like he wanted to say that Rick had called it wrong. Wanted to. Couldn't.

"And where does that leave the kid?"

"Ed?" One step behind Rick. Not even seeing where this was going.

"He's a good-looking kid. Can't think why you'd want to cheat on him. Still, _you _don't seem to have a problem with that, do you?"

New York and Alex and Eduardo landing a punch filled both their thoughts.

"Leave Ed out of this." Low and quavery.

Rick remembered wanting to find out what Rusty's vulnerable spots were. The kid was definitely one of them.

"What if I didn't?" he murmured and Rusty shot across the room to stand in front of him.

"Leave him alone or I'll...I'll..."

"You'll what?" Rick scoffed.

Rusty's arm pulled back and Rick easily caught it before it could complete its swing. He tightened his grip and he saw Rusty's shoulders sag. Good. The fag knew that he was going to come second in any physical contest.

"Leave him alone," Rusty whispered and there was defeat in there.

"Give me a reason not to," Rick replied.

"What do you mean?" And those blue eyes were large and yes, they were frightened.

"Over there on the couch. Bend over and drop your pants. Want you to understand just who's in charge."

Rusty looked like he wanted to argue but he walked back across the room and did as Rick asked, lying awkwardly over the arm of the couch, facing away, his bare ass up in the air.

"Tell me what you want me to do, golden boy," Rick instructed, leaning up against the wall, his arms crossed.

There was a silence and Rick enjoyed every squirming minute of it.

"I want you to fuck me, Rick," Rusty said in a low voice.

"I'm sorry?" Rick pretended not to hear.

"I want you to fuck me."

"You want me to-"

"Yes, goddamnit!" Rusty spat the words. "Get on with it! Fuck me! Fuck me so hard I..."

Something must have happened. A noise, intuition, something... And then Rusty turned his head and saw Eduardo and Danny standing beside Rick.

"No..." Agonised and desperate and Rusty leapt off the couch, pulling his pants up. "Ed!"

Rick saw the kid, horror-stricken and hurting, burst into tears and run from the room. Rusty looked after him and then he was stood in front of Danny, pawing at Danny and begging him incoherently to listen, that this wasn't him, that Danny needed to understand what had happened... Danny had a look of complete disgust on his face.

"Get your hands off me, you faggot. And get the fuck out of here before I knock you out."

Rusty backed away and the tears started as he turned and ran.

Danny took a moment and then turned to Rick. "I'm sorry, Rick. I'm so sorry. You were right and I was wrong. Forgive me?"

"Of course." Rick gave a bright smile…

..."What are _you_ smiling at?"

Rusty's voice ended all pleasant daydreams and brought Rick back into the room. Rick hesitated. It had to be worth a try,

"Just thinking what a good-looking kid Eduardo is and wondering how badly you'd want him to stay that way."

Rusty grinned and stood up, sauntering over to where Rick was stood.

"First of all, I'll let Ed know you've noticed and secondly, I just have to check. Are you threatening Ed?"

"What if I was?" Rick murmured with as much menace as he possessed. "What would you do?"

Amusement filled Rusty's face. "You've got a short memory, Rick." The laughter died away. "You lay a finger on him and I'll bite it off."

Rick stared at the blue eyes, ice cold and meaning it and he shivered involuntarily.

"Relax. I was just messing with you," Rick said with a shrug and headed off to the kitchen with as much cool as he could muster.

Damn it. Fucking fag.

* * *

Rusty watched him go and pondered the exchange before smiling to himself. Rick was still trying to find the right buttons to push. Well, Rick didn't need to try for much longer. Once they'd got the money from Doug Quentin, they didn't ever have to set eyes on each other again and that suited Rusty just fine.

He thought back to last night's conversation with Danny. Damn the man but he had an unerring trick of picking the right words to say to unlock secrets that Rusty was sure were well-buried. His sexual orientation for one thing. How the hell Danny had worked _that_ out… Not that it mattered. And the only man he'd ever slept with whom Rusty felt certain knew he was straight, was Tommy Reiss, long ago and far away.

His fingers gripped the map in his hands a little tighter. He couldn't think of Reiss without thinking of Willoughby and he couldn't think of Willoughby without thinking of Saul and Mitch and that broke his dream. Because the nightmare had come again. More vivid than ever. More confused than ever because he was still walking in and seeing Danny helpless, unable to speak with pain and Rick dead and he was clutching Rick to him while he sobbed like a baby. Ridiculous.

But then it was ridiculous to care. Maybe that was what his subconscious was trying to tell him. Maybe that was why the dream was recurring. That made sense. He would admit splitting up with Ed wasn't proving as easy as he wanted it to be. And Danny's insistence last night that Ed loved him…well, that was… Ed had a crush on him. They both knew that. Unrequited love not the unconditional sort that Danny was suggesting. It had to be.

His mind flickered to Rick's half-hearted attempt to threaten Ed and his own response. He'd meant every protective word of it, he realised with a shock. Rusty swallowed hard. Oh, this couldn't be good. And Rick's words had been directed at getting a rise out of _him. _Ed was just a pawn in all of it.

Stick with Plan A, he told himself. Plan A meant he just had himself to worry about. And sure, Ed would be unhappy and yes, maybe he himself would find an Edless life took a little getting used to. But he would never need to worry that Ed would get hurt because of him. Plan A. The way to go.

* * *

"Mr Taylor? It's Tony."

There was sleepy acknowledgement and Tony plunged on regardless.

"I wanted to let you know what I found out. Danny Ocean and Rick Goodman are the men we're looking for. Pair of con artists who helped Alisha. Guess Anton was an alias. Probably explains why we can't find him. These two, I done some asking around. Checked on file. Nothing on Goodman but Ocean's got a record. Drugs. Got out a couple of months back."

"You think this was about the drugs?" Mr Taylor sounded focused and all business.

Tony paused and considered the question. "Maybe. If he was trying to make a move on our operation…"

"Maybe he's part of a bigger outfit."

It was a good suggestion. Flanagan and his Irish boys. Or Cussons and his crew. Both had ambitions. It was something that Tony might find out the answer to.

"Anyway, Mr Taylor. I just wanted to know what you wanted me to do."

"You got an address?"

Tony looked down at the notes from his police contact.

"Place out in Vermont."

There was a pause.

"Then do what you need to do, Tony."

The line went dead and Tony smiled surprised approval. Spoken like Mr Fitzwilliam himself. One day, the Taylors were going to run this empire and he was going to be right there beside them. He dialled another number.

"Nelson? It's me. Yes, I know it's early. Get Wes and Lloyd and a couple of the others. Meet me in front of Larner's in half an hour. What? No, not Davey. Christ. This is _important_."

He hung up and beckoned the waitress over for a second cup of coffee. This _was _important. And important made him thirsty.

* * *

Danny buttoned up his shirt, all the revelations from last night still dancing round his head. Eduardo, miserable and aching and wanting Rusty happy above all things… And now that Danny knew this was supposed to be the last time Eduardo and Rusty worked together, he looked back and could see the signs of unhappiness in Eduardo. Right back at the beginning when they'd been walking into Maria's flat.

"_There was life before you…" _Rusty had said and Eduardo was hearing _"There will be life after you" _and walking away to compose himself before a casual glance which meant _"You OK?" _and a faint nod that said _"I can handle it"_.

Except Eduardo couldn't handle it. Danny thought about the other morning when he'd walked downstairs and Eduardo had looked like he might collapse. Only now, when he pictured the scene, he saw the relief in Eduardo's eyes as Rusty walked back through the door with breakfast.

Eduardo cared for Rusty in spite of Rusty; that much was clear. In spite of all the barriers and defences Rusty put in place, Eduardo loved him. Danny felt he had been right to point out this salient fact to Rusty on the beach.

Funny, but that damn beach seemed to bring out the truth in both of them. Confidences that neither would exchange easily.

Rusty, confirming that he was planning on walking away from Eduardo, from Danny…Rusty, on a mission to kill _(Rusty was a killer?)_…Danny imagined those blue eyes that wouldn't take any prisoners and about what Rusty had been prepared to do – what he _had_ done – what he _still_ did…

"_I tell them I like to be submissive. I tell them I enjoy being dominated."_

Imagination had never been a problem for Danny. He could see Rusty, playing the part and allowing himself to be used, to submit, to be subjugated. No wonder Rusty was at war with himself. It had only been a few weeks' acquaintance but subservient was the last word Danny would have used to describe him. He only hoped that Rusty would do what he had asked and phone him if the situation looked likely again. Danny would do all in his power to keep him safe from the pain and self-loathing and the very wrongness of it all.

"You look like you're thinking."

He turned round. Teresa was sitting up in bed, hair tousled, eyes sleepy. God, he loved her. And he felt the guilt rush through him at all the times he wondered what life might be like with someone else. He wondered, he told himself. He never wished.

"Early breakfast. Gonna go and see the guys off," Danny explained. "They've got places to be and people to see."

She accepted as she always did.

"That mean you're home today?" she asked and she clapped her hands excitedly when he nodded.

* * *

Downstairs, Danny good morninged Rick, busy making breakfast in the kitchen before walking over to Rusty, leaning up against the wall, looking a little lost.

"You look like you need that." Danny nodded at the map in Rusty's hand.

The map was folded up immediately.

"Called Doug. Suggested we meet him halfway."

"Good," Danny approved. "You'll be back this afternoon, then."

Rusty's eyes flickered and Danny swore softly.

"Oh, Rusty…please. Please. You don't get many chances like Eduardo."

"Speaking of whom…" Rusty looked over Danny's shoulder. "You all set, Ed?"

Danny turned and saw Eduardo, pale but dignified and radiating composure and his heart felt for the kid. He wished Rusty could have seen the raw emotion in Eduardo last night and he fought the desire to kick Rusty long and hard until he saw sense.

"You going to drop me at the airport?" Eduardo asked and Rusty nodded.

"Called Carter. He's expecting you."

"Right." Eduardo turned and headed for the kitchen and Danny could see the effort the façade was taking. He glanced sharply at Rusty and there was an unguarded look in Rusty's eyes that told him Rusty saw it too.

"Think about it," Danny suggested, the anger sparking through him.

* * *

Teresa had joined them and they ended up lingering over breakfast. It felt like a farewell meal even though no one was calling it that. Eduardo was having difficulty meeting his eyes and Rusty sighed inside. There should be a better way of handling this. _He _should be able to think about a better way of handling this. He shot Danny a sideways glance and wondered if now was the right time to start asking for help with the impossible.

Dishes cleared away, they all stood up and Rusty kissed Teresa on the cheek.

"What's that for?" she asked, surprised.

"To say thank you. For everything."

She flushed and smiled and behind him, Rusty didn't need to see Ed's face to know how tight it was because he knew Rusty was saying goodbye.

* * *

Danny saw them out. His eyes were on Rusty the whole time and Rusty brazened out the gaze.

"Front or back, Rick," he asked and Rick didn't even try to hide the sneer as he climbed into the back seat of Bessie with the Canaletto.

Eduardo sat in the passenger seat and Rusty started the engine, swinging the car round and pulling away. He didn't look back but his eyes in the mirror told him that Danny was still staring after them.

They pulled on to the freeway and they drove in silence. With every mile, Rusty felt the invisible wall between Ed and himself growing. Unbidden, the memories of sharing and happiness and caring rose up. There'd been two years and after Marc Buchet, things had gone their way. A couple of close calls but mostly there'd been sunshine and blue skies… They weren't worth it, Rusty told himself and bit his lip. Alone. On his own. Safer. Only himself to risk, only himself to gamble. What he wanted. What he…what he needed…

Thing was, that was easy to say when all it was was a theory. Easy to say when all there was was a plan. This was reality. This was no more Ed. This was…

"_Eduardo loves you."_

Plan A. Plan A. There was blood in his mouth but Plan A. No more Ed to worry about. This was…this was it.

This _was _it. They were at the airport. On automatic pilot, he stopped the car in the drop off zone and Eduardo climbed out and without a word, Ed walked away from him, from them and disappeared into the crowd.

"Safe journey, kid," Rick called after him.

Rusty sat and stared at the steering wheel.

"_This could be the biggest mistake you make."_

"Fuck," he said out loud.

Then he was out of the car, ignoring the cry of astonishment from Rick, out of the car and running, running, running, past blurs of people with cases and bags, holiday-makers and travellers and businessmen and families. Running and running. Past wrong men, too tall, too short, too fat, too thin, too young, too old and then there was Ed.

There was Ed.

And all the things Rusty wanted to say and needed to say died away on his lips because Ed looked at him and understood all the things Rusty wanted and needed. The look of awful hope on Ed's face nearly cut Rusty in two and still Ed wanted confirmation.

"For sure?" he asked in a low voice.

Rusty nodded. "For sure."

Impulsively, he pulled Ed to him and kissed Eduardo on the forehead.

"You're a good kid, Ed. I'm a fucking jerk."

Ed nearly believed. Nearly. Still didn't quite dare. Still wanted to protect himself against future hurt. He reached into Ed's pocket and lifted the box with the dollar.

"I'll call Carter. We'll both go and see him tomorrow." He pocketed the box and Ed smiled feebly at him. Rusty could see he couldn't trust himself to speak.

"You want to come with Rick and me to see Doug? Or you want to head back to Danny's? Tell him to lay an extra place at dinner?"

The smile grew and Ed was fighting back tears.

"I'll go back to Danny's," he managed. "Rusty-"

"Don't you thank me," Rusty warned.

Eduardo gave a shaky laugh. "For putting me through hell this past month? Don't worry, I won't."

Rusty flicked him a tight smile of sorry and penitence and Eduardo reached out and gripped his arm. Rusty didn't pull away.

"Danny…you and Danny…" Ed tailed off and tried again. "Danny and you-"

"Danny's a great guy," Rusty told him and then, with his eyes full of reassurance, as open as he'd ever let Eduardo see him, he added, "He's not my partner. You are."

* * *

Neither of them had been in a hurry to walk back through the airport hall and outside but they finally reached fresh air and an illegally parked car and Rick, remonstrating with an official. Rick caught sight of Rusty and there were furious gestures and indeed, just fury.

"Oh, I'm in for a fun journey," Rusty muttered. "Better go, Ed. Don't want to explain to Felicity that Bessie's been impounded."

"Were you- were you going to let Rick drive the car back? Before I mean?"

"Fuck, no!" Rusty said with feeling. "I'd have got Bessie back to Felicity myself somehow. Rick was going to be finding his own way home."

"_Hey!"_ Rick managed to inject the three letter summons with equal amounts of volume and snarl.

"Maybe I'll keep that part of the plan," Rusty mused. "What do you reckon? Figure I could beat him home by three hours."

Eduardo grinned and then his face grew serious. "About Rick…"

Rusty's eyes were on him in a flash. "What about Rick? Has he been throwing his weight around?"

"No, no…"

"You don't get over here right now, hotshot, this car is going to be towed away!"

"Later. It'll keep. No, really," Eduardo smiled at him. "Go save Bessie."

Still Rusty held his gaze and searched his face but Eduardo dismissed the concern and reluctantly, Rusty let it go.

"OK. See you back at Danny's. Partner."

He saw the flush of happiness at the final word and smiled.

* * *

As if in a dream, Eduardo stood and watched as Rusty effortlessly and charmingly pleaded whatever excuse he was throwing at the official. And the effortless charm worked as it always did. No one said no to Rusty.

Rick had migrated into the front seat and was sitting, red-faced, his jaw clenched and Eduardo almost regretted the decision not to go with them. He might have been able to deflect some of the tension. Mind you, he owed Rick nothing and Rusty could handle himself.

He waved goodbye to them and then headed straight to the airport café. Only when he was sat with a large milky coffee pressed between his hands did he let himself think properly about what had just happened.

This morning, this truly final morning, he'd drawn upon steel and resolve he didn't know he possessed. He was _not_ going to break down. He was _not_ going to cry. All emotion was going to be locked down tight and only later, when he was on the plane to Detroit was he going to allow himself to feel.

He'd stood in line to buy a ticket and his resolve was still firm. He busied himself reading airline information and billboards and the small print on what could be put in handluggage. Anything rather than dealing with the actual.

And then Rusty had appeared out of nowhere and one glance at Rusty's face and Eduardo knew why he was there and he'd needed the inner steel and resolve just to keep him upright. A prayer answered and he didn't care about the why or the how, he was just so thankful.

Tempting though it had been to go with Rusty, he knew he needed some time alone. Because somehow, throughout the whole conversation with Rusty, he'd held back the swell of emotion. But right now, right here and now, the dam was bursting and he sat and sobbed and sobbed and had never been happier in his life.

* * *

Felicity had called round for a mid-morning coffee, Canute accompanying her as was his wont. They sat at the dining table and Danny studied the fat, black cat as it purred contentedly on Felicity's knee. Canute never seemed to change. Neither did Felicity. Some constants were good in life.

With half an ear on the conversation between Felicity and Teresa – something to do with a shopping trip – Danny's thoughts turned inevitably to Rusty and with difficulty, he bit back on the anger inside him. The man was so stubborn. Stubborn and self-sufficient. Well, Danny was going to keep in contact with both him and Eduardo. Rusty might be the king of obduracy but Danny was going to give him a run for his money.

"My dress!" Teresa suddenly exclaimed and Danny focused his attention on her.

"Your dress?"

"My new blue one with the flowers. You haven't seen it yet." She stood up. "I shall go and put it on."

"Looking forward to seeing it," Danny smiled at her.

She disappeared upstairs as his phone rang.

"It's Rusty."

Danny stood up and excusing himself with a smile at Felicity, he wandered casually and carefully towards the front of the house, out of earshot.

"Everything OK?" he asked, a horde of things that might have gone wrong stampeding through his brain.

"Everything's fine," Rusty said. "I thought you'd want to know."

And Danny heard what was being said and the smile blossomed unbidden.

"I do want to know. I'm glad you told me."

"We're just waiting for Doug. I'll see you later."

The phone went dead and he put it back in his pocket, still smiling. Then the smile dropped away. Out of the front window, he saw a white van pulling up and disgorging men. Six men. Men who looked like they meant business.

Instincts taking over, he span on his heel.

"Teresa!" he shouted, even as he was moving to Felicity, pulling her upright, startled and protesting, Canute dropping to the floor, indignant and yowling.

"Teresa!" he called again as heart pounding, he dragged Felicity and her coffee cup to the cupboard under the stairs and pushed her inside with the coats and the darkness.

"Danny, what…?" Felicity's eyes were bewildered.

There wasn't time. He could only hope she could see how serious he was.

"Felicity, promise me whatever happens, you'll stay inside here and not make a noise. Promise me."

White-faced, she nodded and he shut the door on her. Teresa. He needed to hide her. He ran to the stairs. He needed to-

The front door crashed open and dry-mouthed, Danny turned to see the men on his doorstep and in his house.

"My new dress!" Teresa announced proudly, walking down the stairs behind him.

"It's quite lovely," the first man said gravely. "Don't you think so, Mr Ocean?"

* * *

Doug Quentin was late. Rusty was bored. Rick was complaining and for once, Rusty thought he had a point. You'd have thought Doug would have made the effort. It was his painting, after all.

Finally, Doug appeared in the diner and Rusty's eyes were drawn inevitably to the wig. He forced himself to look away and smile at the man with the money.

"No Danny?" Doug sounded disappointed and Rusty grinned.

"No Danny," Rick said shortly. "But one Canaletto."

Doug took the crated painting and let out a happy sigh.

"Here." Rusty cracked the crate and Doug peered in at his reclaimed possession. The sigh was longer and happier.

"Your money, gentlemen."

Doug produced a briefcase and discreetly opened it so that they could see the notes. Rusty and Rick both leaned over and selected different piles of cash to flick through. All good. Doug closed the case and laid it on the table in front of them. Rick started to pull it towards him and Doug stopped him.

"Tell me the story again. Please."

There was _For fuck's sake_ written all over Rick's face and Rusty empathised. Part of him was voting for snatching the briefcase and walking. Wasn't like Doug was going to argue. But this was a friend of Reuben and Rusty had liked Reuben way before he knew what Reuben meant to Danny.

He leaned back in his chair and smiled at eyes that were eager to taste vicariously the triumph of revenge. "Of course, Doug. We'd be delighted to."

* * *

They were in his house. There were five of them and they were in his house and one of them was standing behind Teresa and it had taken three of them to get him kneeling down on the floor, heavy hands on his shoulders. Incoherence and fear raced through him. Teresa looked curious but not frightened and he wanted to offer words of comfort, words of reassurance but he'd never lie about a thing like that.

The man the others seemed to be looking to for leadership stood in front of him.

"Mr Ocean. One or two things we need to discuss."

The man's face was familiar, Danny realised suddenly. Larner's. He'd seen him at the auction house. His heart sank. Somewhere along the way they'd been careless, somewhere along the way he'd fucked up like he had in Belize and now these men were here, here in his house and he'd led them to Teresa.

The man wandered over to the cupboard under the stairs and Danny's breath caught in his chest. Not Felicity as well. But the man didn't open the door. Instead, he dragged a chair over from the dining table and sat down in front of it.

"Reckon this is going to take some time, Mr Ocean. I want to get comfortable."

Charm was not going to be an option. There was bribery, there were favours but something told him the man was not going to be persuaded by either.

"Please," he said simply. "My wife doesn't need to see this."

The man looked at him thoughtfully.

"I appreciate a man who understands a situation. Nelson. Take Mrs Ocean upstairs, will you?"

"Teresa, go with the gentleman, sweetheart," Danny said quickly and puzzled, Teresa nodded.

"Would you like to see my dolls?" she asked.

Danny gritted his teeth at the look on Nelson's face. The man in charge must have seen it too.

"Nelson, we may need Mrs Ocean later," he said firmly.

The cruel light in Nelson's eyes died down and he gave a sullen nod. Danny swallowed hard as he saw Teresa walking away from him, out of sight and up the stairs and there was nothing he could do about it. His attention snapped back to the man sat in the chair, the man with all the power.

"What do you want?" Danny asked tonelessly.

"My employers suffered some embarrassment recently and I have reason to believe that you may have been behind it. You and your partner, Rick Goodman. He isn't here, I take it?"

"No." Thank God, no. Rick was safe.

"Pity. I wanted -" The man broke off, surprised as Canute, never one to miss the opportunity of a lap leapt up on him. "I wanted to discuss this with both of you. Guess we can always find Mr Goodman later."

The front door opened and the sixth man appeared.

"Neighbour's not home, Tony. Car's gone."

"Good," Tony approved, absent-mindedly stroking Canute. He smiled at Danny. "Less chance of interruptions."

"What do you want?" Danny asked again.

"Little righteous indignation I got to share with you on behalf of my employers. Wasn't a smart thing that you did back there. People get angry. Also, I want to know if this thing with Alisha was an independent action or not."

"What does Alisha say?"

"Nowadays?" Tony shrugged. "Not very much."

Danny couldn't help the shudder. This hadn't been what this was about. Alisha was supposed to be humiliated, disgraced, sacked not…not _killed_…

"Just one question, Mr Ocean. Who you working for?"

* * *

Eduardo got off the bus and started heading up the lane towards Danny's house. He couldn't stop smiling. He felt like a man on Death Row who had been given a last minute reprieve from execution.

He checked his watch. Rusty wouldn't be back for a couple of hours at the earliest. Time to find time alone with Danny and to tell him about Rusty's change of heart. He hesitated. Rick wouldn't be back for a couple of hours either. Maybe this would be the right time to tell Danny about him and Teresa. He'd wanted to last night on the verandah but it hadn't seemed appropriate and instead he'd found himself pouring out his heart instead.

Danny deserved to know the truth. Maybe it would be best to tell Rusty tonight and then together they could tell Danny. He'd almost told Rusty at the airport but he'd stopped himself. Not the right moment either. Rusty would have got the whole story out of him and somehow, Eduardo didn't think the part where Rick had him up against the wall was going to sit well with Rusty. Well, not today anyway. Because today, Rusty had called him partner. The smile grew wider.

They'd see this man Carter Pryce tomorrow and afterwards, the world was their oyster. A vision of golden days of life and laughter and Rusty carried him along the lane and up the steps to Danny's house and not even the anomalous white van parked outside distracted him until he opened the door and the world stood still.

* * *

Rick was itching to hit someone and he couldn't decide whether it was Doug Quentin or Rusty. Probably both. Why the fuck Rusty had decided to indulge the man's request for a blow by blow account, he'd never know.

His mind drifted back to the airport. Rusty leaping out of the Mustang and leaving Rick and a very hot piece of property behind because he hadn't kissed his boyfriend goodbye was not acceptable. Except it hadn't been about that. Another little Rustywhim it seemed. First the kid was going away, then he wasn't. Rick had no clue why Eduardo had looked so happy about the change of plan.

He'd seen the moment when Eduardo had said something to Rusty. Something that had made Rusty snap round. Something serious. Rick had swallowed hard and waited but it seemed the kid had lost his nerve.

When Rusty had got back in the car and driven off, Rick had still wondered if Eduardo had shared their little secret. He'd glanced sideways at an imperturbable expression. Either Eduardo hadn't or Rusty was a fucking good actor. Trouble was, Rick grudgingly had to admit, Rusty was a fucking good actor.

"Would you like another coffee, Rick?" Doug Quentin asked.

No. He wouldn't. He'd like to take the money and run. He glanced stonily at Rusty who had ordered another pink milkshake and that was surely just to annoy the hell out of him with those little slurpy noises of enjoyment.

"I guess," he said through gritted teeth and sat back and waited for Rusty to finish the damn story.

* * *

"You Rick?" one of the men asked, grabbing Eduardo and dragging him forward.

Eduardo looked over at Danny, blood dripping from his lip, hanging limply in one man's arms while another was rubbing his knuckles.

"He's not Rick," Danny said hoarsely, spitting blood. "Let him go."

A man in a chair gave him a cursory glance and said "Perry Grafham said Goodman's a blond. Don't worry. We'll get Rick. Take this one and tie him up in the kitchen."

It was funny in extremis how fast your brain could work. It only took Eduardo a split second to process information and plot likely circumstances. The men were after Danny and Rick. They had Danny. They were looking for Rick. Rick and Rusty weren't here. They were coming back though. And Rusty might have been joking about ditching Rick but it was the sort of thing that Rusty _would_ do. Especially since they were going to be leaving the next day.

"_Figure I could beat him home by three hours."_

That meant Rusty would make it back here first. Rusty would walk through the door and these men would see blond hair and- and-

"I'm Rick Goodman." Eduardo stuck out his chin aggressively. "Who wants to know?"

Danny's eyes were uncomprehending. Eduardo ignored him.

"Get your fucking paws off me!" he snarled at the man holding him, spinning round in his grip and throwing a punch that connected.

"Bring him over here!" the man in the chair barked.

Hands obliged and then the man stood up and stared hard into Eduardo's face. Eduardo recognised him and he saw the light of recognition dawn in the man's eyes too.

"Well, Tony?"

"He was there at the auction. Disappeared fast the moment the fake was announced. He was in on it alright." Fingers grabbed Eduardo's hair and he winced. "Guess you dyed your hair."

Tony sat down again on the chair. "Nice you could join us, Mr Goodman. Boys, make Mr Goodman feel at home."

A punch to his stomach doubled him over.

* * *

Felicity sat on the floor underneath the coats, her hand pressed over her mouth, tears running down her cheeks. She hadn't understood in the slightest when Danny had pushed her in here but the look on his face told her to trust him.

These men…these _animals_…the sounds of violence and pain permeated the little stuffy cupboard and she tried to make herself small and invisible.

There was nothing she could do. She had no phone. She wasn't going to be able to stop them physically. She couldn't make a break for it. It was all happening right outside this door. Besides which, she thought of the sadness in Danny's eyes if they found her after his best attempts to protect her.

They'd taken Teresa upstairs. Someone called Nelson. Felicity had sat and heard the footsteps above her and she'd prayed like she'd never prayed before that that poor, sweet, innocent girl would be safe.

There'd been the sound of soft thuds that she hadn't understood until there was a stifled groan and she'd realised what was going on and had hoped that she'd managed to keep the scream inside.

Then Eduardo had arrived. The well-mannered, pleasant young man. Rusty's friend. And for some reason, he was pretending to be Rick and now, now, they were hitting and hurting him like they'd been hitting and hurting Danny.

All she could do was sit and listen and pray.

* * *

Finally, they'd shaken Doug free and headed back to the car. Rick dropped the money on to the back seat.

"Let's get going," he suggested. "I'll call Danny, let him know we're on our way." The phone the other end just rang and rang and Rick frowned. "No answer."

Rusty shrugged. "We'll be back soon enough."

* * *

Tony wasn't getting answers. Not the answers he wanted and he'd had the girl brought downstairs and not even _that_ seemed to do the trick. Ocean's face as Nelson went to work on her told him that maybe there were no answers to get. Either these two were a pair of con artists who had hooked up with Alisha and got lucky or they were part of a bigger outfit and took their loyalty seriously. In any case, all he and the boys were doing now was wasting time. He crouched down beside Ocean, lying on his side.

"I'm right in thinking that you're not going to tell me anything, aren't I, Mr Ocean? I mean after what Nelson did to your wife, after what Lloyd did to your partner, if you were going to talk,you'd have talked then, right?"

Ocean looked up at him with eyes full of pain and hatred.

"That's what I thought." Tony stood up and stamped hard with his heel down on Ocean's jaw, hearing the bone snap. He stamped again for good measure. "Finish up, boys. We're going."

* * *

They'd made good time on the journey back. Rusty had turned on the radio same as he had on the journey out. Saved conversation that neither of them wanted.

He'd called Carter while they'd been waiting for Doug to show.

"_Change of plan. Ed and I are coming out to you tomorrow."_

_There'd been a silence and then an exhalation. Rusty could see the smile on Carter's face. _

"_Great. See you both then." _

After he'd introduced Ed to Carter…well, he'd let Ed choose what happened next. He owed him that much. If there were places in the States that Ed wanted to see... They'd only been over a couple of times before and that had been about jobs with very clear cut timelines. They hadn't been looking for opportunities and in any case, Rusty hadn't wanted to linger. Maybe now, things would be different…

He parked up and Rick jumped out, grabbing the money off the back seat. They walked together up the steps and Rusty frowned as he trod on something. More than one something. He bent down and picked it up, peering at the small white hard…it was a tooth. There were half a dozen teeth scattered on the top step and cold horror ran down his spine.

Rick was opening the door and Rusty sprang up and pushed past him into the house, ignoring the exclamation from Rick. He stopped dead just inside.

There was blood. Bloody marks up the walls, over the floor…no sign of Danny, no sign of Teresa, no sign of Ed… Maybe Ed hadn't made it back yet…maybe Ed was still out somewhere safe…

"Danny!" Rick screamed out from behind him but there was no answer.

"Check upstairs," Rusty said tersely and Rick pounded up the steps, taking them two at a time.

A banging was coming from the cupboard under the stairs. A chair had gotten wedged under the handle. Rusty strode over and pulled it free. Felicity fell out into his arms.

"The others?" he asked urgently. "Where are they?"

Trembling and tearful, she shook her head and he steered her to the chair. She was unhurt as far as he could see and that much was a relief.

"Was Ed here?" He had to know.

"Yes," she sobbed. "He told them he was you."

She pointed with a shaky finger at Rick, arriving back at his side.

"Upstairs is empty," Rick announced, ignoring Felicity.

Time for questions later. Rusty turned and walked through to the living area and stepped into his nightmare…

Danny was closest, lying on his side, limbs broken, his _face_…his face, distorted and mangled… An eye fluttered open and he stared dully up at Rusty, trying to make a shattered mouth work.

There were two more bodies behind Danny. Rusty was dimly aware of Teresa, lying lifeless like a puppet with its strings cut. He only had eyes for Ed. He moved past Danny and sank to his knees, gathering Ed to him, looking into eyes that were glassy and empty, fingers searching frantically for a pulse that wasn't there, hands clinging desperately to the husk that had held a soul long since fled.

The howl ripped through him.

* * *

A/N: Sorry.


	37. Grief

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own things of an Ocean's nature

A/N: still sorry. Also sorry this has taken a while.

Chapter Thirty-seven: Grief

* * *

Pain. It could be many things. A dull ache, a sharp stab, a fierce stinging… Right now, as Rusty knelt on the floor, arms wrapped around mutilation and blood and death and emptiness, it was all-out agony, raging through him at full volume, blinding him and taking him away from his very self.

Time had lost meaning. Elastic seconds passed by. Life hung suspended.

A hand shook his shoulder roughly and he turned his head. Rick was there, saying something and Rusty frowned up at him, trying to make sense of the words. It was like listening through cotton wool. He saw exasperation on Rick's face and then out of nowhere, there was a crack and his cheek smarted and he blinked stupidly.

"Rusty! You with me?"

He let out a long shuddery sigh and then the practical took over. Danny.

"Ambulance. Call 911. Keep it short, make it urgent, no names, hang up."

Rick's phone was already in his hand: he nodded and punched numbers.

Carefully, oh, so carefully, Rusty laid Eduardo back down on the floor and scrabbled round to where Danny lay. Danny's eyes were closed and his breathing was fluttery and uneven. Gently, Rusty touched Danny's face, his fingers running lightly over Danny's temple. Danny's eyelashes flickered but his eyes stayed shut.

Overlaying Rick's conversation with the emergency services, there was an intermittent sobbing sound. Felicity was sitting next to Teresa, stroking Teresa's hair, tears running down her cheeks. _Teresa…broken and bloody…_ What a fucking mess… For a moment, Rusty nearly lost it again: he had to force himself to concentrate. Details. Felicity couldn't be here. Felicity _mustn't _be here.

"They're on their way," Rick said tersely. "You hear that, Danny? You stay with us."

Rusty was on his feet and taking Rick to one side, ignoring the startled look and the argument ready to burst forward from the other man.

"Rick," Rusty began in a low voice, "we need to get Felicity out of here." A vision of Doug Quentin's cash swam in front of his eyes. "Felicity _and _the money. Too many questions. I'll get the car and-"

"No."

Fierce anger flashed through Rusty. Of all the times for Rick to challenge him.

"I'm not going anywhere, for fuck's sake!"

"It's not- _I_ can-"

"You need to be with Danny!" Rusty hissed. "He's _your_ partner!"

"Rusty, look at yourself," Rick hissed back and he did so.

Blood. Soaked into his clothes. Staining his hands. So much of it, so much blood… Eduardo's blood… Rusty made an involuntary noise of grief.

"Rusty, we don't have time!"

Focus. Focus. He nodded at Rick, threw him the keys to Bessie and crouched down next to Felicity.

"Listen to me, Felicity, we need to get you out of here. The police are going to get involved and there's going to be an investigation. Word gets out there's a witness…"

He didn't complete the sentence. If the men who had done this found out there was a witness, they'd come back. He reached out to take Felicity's hand and then saw the blood on his own fingers and thought better of it.

"You know nothing. You saw nothing. Rick is going to take you for a little drive."

Felicity looked down at the dark hair twining through her fingers.

"You can't help her," Rusty said firmly. "You need to listen to me. I need to keep you safe. Do you understand?"

She gave a trembling nod and her eyes travelled over to Danny.

"Look at me, Felicity." His eyes were clear and full of truth. "I'll stay with him. Now, please."

Still trembling, she got awkwardly to her feet. Rick took her elbow and between them, they walked her swiftly back towards the front door.

"Take her into town." The visions of shops and hotels and streets ran through Rusty's head. "The Imperial. You know the Imperial, Felicity?"

"Yes," she whispered. "It's a very nice hotel."

"Good," Rusty smiled reassuringly at her. "You're doing really well, Felicity, really well."

He switched his attention back to Rick.

"Get her booked in. Use cash. Text me the number of the room. Leave the car at the hotel and the keys with Felicity. Lose the case then get back here as soon as you can. We're friends of Danny's. You caught the bus into town and I went for a long walk. I came back first. I made the call. I called you."

Rick nodded and picked up the case of money that he'd dropped when he came in.

"Rusty…" Rick's face was troubled.

"I'll look after him," he promised. "Now, go. Felicity, I'll come and find you."

The door shut behind them and Rusty returned to Danny's side, sitting down on the floor beside him, reaching out and pressing his hand gently against Danny's face. Danny didn't stir.

"You're not alone," he said and saying it felt ridiculous but important all at the same time. "I'm here and I'm with you. Felicity is safe. Rick and I are keeping her safe."

There was still no response from Danny but Rusty hoped he'd heard it all. Hearing was supposed to be the sense that stayed with you long after the others faded.

His peripheral vision picked up Ed and Teresa and now that the immediate was dealt with, the sea of emotion washed over him again. _Ed and the blood and his _mouth _and he'd lived through so much agony… _

A tiny touch of wetness brushed up against his fingers and he looked down through blurry vision at the tear track from Danny's eye.

_Oh, Danny…_

It was enough to bring him back and Rusty forced himself to think ahead. However much he disliked the fact, he couldn't handle this on his own. He pulled his own phone free and blindly dialled the number.

"Carter? I need your help."

* * *

Subliminal images – _blood/violation/bones - _flashed in front of Rick's eyes as he drove at speed and in silence and in shock, only half aware of Felicity at his side.

The absolute horror at Danny's house. Teresa and the kid dead, Danny as good as. Please God let Danny survive. Please God, please God. And he'd had to leave Danny with Rusty – _had _to – had to trust his partner to-

He swerved and narrowly avoided a parked car and then slammed his brakes on at the lights. The adrenaline was pumping through him. If he could get his hands on whoever… He thumped his fist into the steering wheel and Felicity jumped.

Felicity.

"What did you see?" he demanded. "What did they look like?"

Felicity's mouth opened and closed like a fish struggling for breath.

"I didn't see anyone," she faltered eventually. "Danny pushed me in the cupboard…"

She gulped hard and tailed off into little tearless sobs of breath. Rick thumped the wheel again. Someone behind them sounded its horn and Rick snarled and threw the car into gear, pulling away.

By the time they'd reached the Imperial, Rick had got his cool back. Dump Felicity, hide the case and get back to Danny. He looked at Felicity, white-faced beside him.

"Come on. Let's get you inside."

* * *

The nice girl on reception had handed her a room key and Rick had near enough grabbed her hand, looked at the number on the key and then left her without a word.

Felicity understood why, of course.

…_get back here as soon as you can..._

And Rick would want to. Whatever else Rick was, he was Danny's friend.

She'd walked in a dream to the room and now she was sat on the bed, staring at the closed door and trying to push away the sounds, trying to push away the screams. She wondered if she'd ever manage it.

* * *

Doug Quentin's money was hidden and the cab he was sitting in was going far too slowly for his liking. He needed to get back to Danny's house. To the blood and the bodies…

Teresa. Arms that had wrapped round him, lips that he'd kissed, that had kissed him… Rick bit back on a moan. Teresa was gone and he'd never hold her again.

The kid was gone too and he supposed that at least their little secret had died with him. Danny wouldn't be finding out that little nugget of information.

Danny…in all the time he'd known him, in the handful of times Danny had been at the wrong end of fists and feet, Rick couldn't ever remember seeing Danny so close to death, hanging on to life with his very fingertips…

"Can't you go any faster?" he demanded harshly and the cab driver put his foot down.

* * *

Rusty's memory was sharp and keen. He remembered faces and facts and conversations and comments: sounds and sights and smells and tastes and touch. Even so, the next hour was a blur. Blue flashing lights had arrived and paramedics had moved him out of the way and started working on Danny.

"_What's his name?"_

"_Danny. Danny Ocean."_

"_Pulse is weak, John."_

"_OK, Danny? Danny, can you hear me? My name is John and I'm here to help you."_

Rick had walked back through the door, fake shock was mixed with the very real pain.

"_Oh, my God! Danny? Danny! Look, I'm Rick Goodman and that's my very best friend! Is he going to be OK?"_

The blue flashing lights had taken Danny and Rick away. More blue flashing lights had arrived and there had been photos – many photos – and they had removed Ed and Teresa. Uniforms and detectives had stayed and asked questions. Lots of questions.

"_Ed and I met ran into Rick and Danny in New York. Danny invited Ed and me back here for a couple of days."_

"_Ed…?"_

"_Eduardo di Costa." Grief twisting his face. Ed…_

_Thoughtful blue eyes looking at him. "And your relationship with Mr di Costa?"_

_There were no words for a moment and then they fell from his lips._

"_My partner."_

_He saw the detective – Callahan – drawing his own conclusions._

"_You know any reason why someone would do something like this?"_

"_No."_

His story was simple and unchanging. Eventually, the interrogation stopped even as the crime scene investigation went on. They'd let him clean himself up and change his clothes.

"_Is there somewhere you can stay, sir? Is there someone you want to call?"_

"_I'll find somewhere in town. Think Danny mentioned the Imperial was a nice place." _

"_I'll have one of our men drop you off."_

"_Thanks."_

_Callahan held his gaze. "We will want to talk to you again. Don't leave town just yet, Mr Ryan."_

"_Don't intend to." _

He'd walked out of the house in a haze and had been taken to the Imperial, climbing out of the cop car and booking himself in. He checked the text that was waiting on his phone and walked straight to Felicity's room where Felicity let him in with a watery smile.

"You OK?" he asked automatically putting a comforting hand on her shoulder and she nodded with forced brightness.

"Danny?" she asked weakly.

"They've taken him to hospital. Rick's gone with him. They've taken Teresa and Ed…"

A vision of Ed lying on a mortuary slab swam in front of Rusty's eyes and the hand on Felicity's shoulder became less about comfort and more about support.

"Come and sit down," Felicity suggested and he found himself in an easy chair with a miniature whisky from the mini-bar pressed into his hand.

"Thanks," he said softly and she smiled.

"You were busy taking care of everyone back there. You need someone to take care of you."

His face twisted into pain before he could help himself and then just as quickly, the pain was pushed away. Emotion was not helping. Emotion never helped.

"Felicity, this isn't going to be an easy thing to ask-"

"You want to know what happened," she interrupted and the gratitude at her understanding flashed into his eyes.

"It's important," he said gently. "Please can you tell me everything you remember."

* * *

Rick sat beside Danny in the back of the ambulance, willing him to hang on to life, willing him to stay whole. He needed Danny whole. He needed Danny's mind, sharp and focused and brilliant. He wanted Danny, charming and charismatic at his side, full of clever cons and comments.

For a little over two and a half years, Danny had been missing. Rick had visited, Rick had been at the other end of a phone, Rick had kept in touch even as he'd worked (nothing special, nothing lucrative), even as he'd looked after Teresa (in every sense). Danny had been missing but it was a temporary state of affairs.

He didn't want to lose Danny.

* * *

The story fell out of Felicity in little pieces and unthinking, Rusty reached over and held her hand as she spoke, her voice full of tremble that she was doing her best to master.

Teresa upstairs and changing, Danny answering the phone (_his call to Danny…all the time they'd been waiting for Doug Quentin, all the time he'd been humouring Doug and telling him the story…)_, Danny pulling her upright and hiding her and saving her…

"There were five or six of them, I think," Felicity said. "Tony was the man in charge. He sat down in front of the cupboard. A man named Nelson took Teresa…" she swallowed and he squeezed her hand. "Took Teresa upstairs. And there was a man called Lloyd…"

They were looking for Danny and Rick. Something that had happened recently. Something involving someone called Alisha…

"Alisha." Rusty's throat was dry. "You're sure?"

Felicity nodded.

The men had held and hurt Danny and then Eduardo had arrived and they'd wondered if he was Rick.

"Tony told them Perry Grafham…Perry Grafham?" He nodded confirmation. "Perry said that Rick was blond. Tony told them to tie Eduardo up in the kitchen but he…he insisted he was Rick." She frowned at Rusty. "I don't understand. Why would he try to protect Rick?"

Rusty didn't answer because he could picture Ed walking through the door and he could see the sequence flashfiring through Ed. _They were looking for Rick…Rick was blond…so was Rusty…_

He must have lost himself for a moment, overwhelmed by the realisation, because Felicity was grasping his hand tightly and whispering words of reassurance.

"I'm OK," he gasped and downed the whisky. "I'm OK," he said again and his voice was stronger and the lie was firmer.

His phone rang and brought him back to himself.

"It's Rick." His voice was empty and hollow. "Just to let you know Danny's in surgery. They say it's going to be a while."

Rick sounded as if he was only just holding it together. Rusty empathised.

"I'm with Felicity. I'll be with you shortly."

"_We _will be with you," Felicity corrected as he hung up and the gleam in her eye told him he was not to correct her.

"Felicity, I'm trying to keep you out of this-"

"Tell them you bumped into me and told me-"

"The police will be watching the hospital-"

"I want to come," she said defiantly and then her face crumpled. "Please. I don't want to be on my own."

* * *

Bessie took them to the hospital and to Rick, tense and angry and pacing in the friends and relatives' room.

"How's he doing?" Rusty asked.

"They rushed him in." Rick's tone was unsurprisingly strained and he looked fit to explode. "They haven't told me a fucking thing-" Rick broke off as a harried man in a white coat arrived.

"Mr Goodman?" he asked, scanning his clipboard. "You're Mr Ocean's next of kin?"

"No. Mr Ocean's next of kin is unable to be here right now owing to the fact that she's fucking dead!"

Man in White Coat took a step back and Rusty stepped in quickly, moving in between them.

"Please excuse Mr Goodman, we've been through a great deal today. Mr Ocean is a very close friend. Please let us know how he is."

Words floated through the air. Internal injuries and bleeding inflicted by heavy blows and kicks, both legs stamped on broken, right arm stamped on and broken, jaw broken…

"They're clean breaks," said Man in White Coat. "It'll help healing."

Emergency operations, plaster casts, pins and wires and reconstruction… Six weeks minimum for bones to set and knit…

The man finished and there was a silence.

"He's fighting," the man said brightly as if it helped. "That's a good sign."

* * *

"Sir?"

Callahan was looking at the bag of teeth that had been picked up from the front step. Sadistic bastards whoever had done this. From the look of the two bodies, they'd used fists and feet and knives and enjoyed it. Straightforward, vicious and fatal. More than one sadistic bastard, that was obvious enough.

"Sir?"

"What is it, Holt?"

The man held up a coffee cup in his gloved fingers.

"This was in the cupboard under the stairs."

Callahan looked at the cup, half-full of liquid, fresh enough to have been made today.

"Well, unless Mr or Mrs Ocean serves drinks in unusual places, we might just be looking for a witness."

* * *

It was evening and Danny had been in surgery for a couple of hours now. Felicity had curled up awkwardly on the couch and had fallen into a light doze, traumatic exhaustion running over her face. Rusty glanced over at her and then at Rick.

"I'm going to make a call about Ed," he said in a low voice and saw Rick's dull lack of interest.

Callahan was still on duty.

"Mr di Costa is still with our forensic team, Mr Ryan."

He'd expected that. Really, he'd expected that. He knew how these things worked.

"Can you- can you tell me anything yet about what happened to him?"

There was a silence at the other end of the phone.

"Maybe we should meet up. Can you swing by the station?"

* * *

Leaving the hospital was hard. He didn't want to leave Felicity unprotected but he told himself she was with Rick at least. He didn't want to leave without news on Danny but he got Rick to promise to phone him if there was any.

Callahan led him into a little interview room and Rusty reminded himself that he wasn't there as a suspect. At least… Callahan smiled at him and there was genuine sympathy and genuine wariness and genuine suspicion. Rusty supposed the latter was to be expected.

"Mr di Costa died from a stab wound to the heart. Before he died, he suffered several serious injuries."

No shit. Ed, suffering so much...trying to keep him safe – _him _safe – and living a lie as he died. He wondered if Danny had realised why Ed had lied. Whether Danny thought it was to protect Rick. He thought about the bastards who had done this and whether they were off for a beer and a pizza, joking about Ed and Teresa and Danny...all in a day's work...

Too late, he felt the cool blue gaze on him again and he wondered how much he'd given away.

* * *

Callahan wasn't sure what to make of Ryan. He'd asked for sheets to be pulled on all four men and Ocean was the only one with a record. Drugs record at that. Callahan's nose had wrinkled. He despised the men who dealt in white powder and pills.

Ryan was clean. So were the other two. And Ryan seemed truly distraught about his boyfriend. Still…Ryan was the first on the scene. Ryan was the man who'd made the call to 911. Ryan _could_ have been hiding in the cupboard all along. Maybe he knew more than he was saying. Maybe he knew a lot more. There was just something about him…

"We'll need to keep Mr di Costa and Mrs Ocean a while longer before we can release them, I'm afraid."

Ryan nodded and again, Callahan could see the disjoint between the stiffness in his face and the wildness in his eyes. And that could be grief, could be sorrow. It hit people in different ways. But there was just something slightly off. Like Ryan was playing a part. He didn't think Ryan was directly responsible for the deaths. The three victims hadn't been tied up or restrained and Callahan couldn't think that they'd sit quietly and _let_ Ryan attack them, even if Ryan looked halfway capable of the physical injuries involved. But people died more often than you'd think at the hands of someone they knew. Ryan could have been part of it. He'd certainly got enough blood on him when they'd found him.

In his mind's eye, Callahan imagined brutish men carrying out Ryan's instructions as Ryan looked on dispassionately. Possible, possible... He smiled again pleasantly. A good cop.

"You mind going over the sequence of events again for me, Mr Ryan? While it's all still fresh?"

* * *

The questioning was soft and gentle and relentless. Like a tap dripping and Rusty was finding himself worn down in spite of himself. Fuck it, hadn't he been through enough today? Hadn't he been through joy and heartache within hours of each other? He forced himself to concentrate. He couldn't misstep. Not when there was Felicity's safety at stake.

"I walked back through the door-"

"This was after your walk along the beach?"

"Yes. I'd taken a walk along the beach and then I came back to the house. I trod on something." _Crunchy, horrific… _"When I opened the door, there was so much blood." _Blood everywhere, it had seemed._

"And you went into the living area?"

"Yes. I saw Danny first. And then I saw Teresa and Ed…" He tailed off and swallowed hard.

Another cop came in and handed Callahan a piece of paper and Rusty saw Callahan's eyebrows rise. The man would be useless at poker. Except that maybe he meant Rusty to see that and think that. In which case, he'd be excellent.

"Do go on, Mr Ryan."

"I... I've said all this before, Detective. I held Ed. I checked on Danny. I called 911."

"Mmm. What did you say?"

Fuck. The 911 call. They weren't interested in what he said. What he said wasn't important. What was important was... He took a deep breath.

"I don't really remember what I said. Told them to send an ambulance. Told them to hurry, I guess. Weird thing was, I couldn't find my phone. I mean it was in my pocket but I couldn't find it."

Callahan's gaze was gimlet-sharp and Rusty knew he was right.

"What did you do?"

"Rick had left his phone on the side. I used that."

"You have Rick's phone with you?"

"No, I gave it back to him at the hospital."

Callahan stared at him hard and then the damn smile was back in place. Not a sinister smile, not a vicious smile, just a professional good cop smile that spoke of tenacity and tracking down a lie.

"Well, I'm sure Mr Goodman can verify that."

Mr Goodman could. If Mr Goodman knew what he had to verify. Rusty sighed inside. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ error to make. To be caught out in. Why hadn't he used his own phone? And what if Rick hadn't deleted the text with Felicity's room number? Callahan looked like he might just be able to work that one out. Fuck. He kept his expression tired and drained. It wasn't hard.

"Will this take much longer, Detective Callahan?"

"No, Mr Ryan. If we can just go over things one more time..."

"I'm really tired. And I'd like to check on Danny."

"It'll only take a moment."

* * *

The moment took forever and his head started to hurt. No, he hadn't met Danny before New York. No, he hadn't had an argument with Eduardo. Yes, he had walked along the beach. Why? He liked walking along beaches.

"Your partner's lying dead, Mr Ryan. I need all the cooperation I can get from you to find out why."

"Detective-"

"Don't you want to find out who did this? Don't you want them to face justice?"

Yes and yes. Actually, he wanted them to face a very slow and painful death and even then, that wouldn't be enough.

"Tell me again about the 911 call. You couldn't find your phone-"

The door burst open suddenly and Callahan straightened up, real surprise on his face.

"Sir?"

"Let him go, Callahan."

"Sir, with all due respect-"

"I said let him go."

Callahan didn't want to; that much was obvious.

"I feel I need to ask a few more questions, sir-"

"Something wrong with your hearing, Callahan?"

"No." Resigned. "No. Nothing."

"Good. Mr Ryan, this gentleman here will see you out."

Callahan's commanding officer stepped aside and Rusty saw a man in a suit with authority written all over him. Conflicting emotions ran through him. On the one hand, he was glad to be on the move. On the other, this man looked like he was another level up from Callahan. In every regard. The man was looking at him with an unblinking gaze.

"My men are in charge now, Mr Ryan." The man's voice was soft and yet terrifyingly in charge. "If you care to step this way, I'll just take a few details."

Damn it, Rusty hated being right. He felt like glaring at Callahan and yelling at him for...for something. He was tired. Instead, he gave a little shrug and got to his feet and followed the man out.

* * *

"Sir, I have to protest. This is my case and there's something about the 911 call and Ryan is-"

"Ryan is not our concern, Callahan. Neither is the case. Feds have caught it."

"But-"

"Look. Some guy that deals in drugs is gonna get whacked at some point. Over territory, over payment, who knows? I don't much care about villains that want to fight amongst themselves. I'm sorry for the kid and I'm sorry for the girl. Typical, isn't it, that the guy who deserves it all is the one who survives."

Callahan ran a hand over his mouth. If he could just make his boss _see..._

"There was a witness. Holt found a coffee cup in the cupboard under the stairs. Someone was in there and heard the whole thing. I think it might be Ryan."

"You sure? You looked like you were giving him your version of the third degree."

"Well, it's possible he's caught up in it somehow. If he's not giving the orders then I really think he might have been in that cupboard. Sir, he knows _some_thing, I'm sure of it."

There was a pause and Callahan watched his boss chewing over his words.

"I'll tell the Feds. In the meantime, you let this go. We got more important things to worry about than making things right for a lousy drug dealer like Ocean. If there was any justice in the world, he wouldn't make it through to morning."

* * *

The silence lasted till the elevator. The corridor around them was empty and the car arrived and _it_ was empty and Mr Imposing stepped inside and suddenly accompanying him didn't seem such a good plan to Rusty. He stayed where he was.

"I prefer the stairs."

His finger jammed on the button that held the doors open, Mr Imposing gave him a searching look.

"You're Saul Bloom's kid."

_What?_

"Yeah..."

"Get in the goddamned elevator."

He did as he was told. The doors closed and he stared at Mr Imposing.

"Bobby Caldwell. Friend of Carter's."

Oh, the world made so much more sense.

"Carter...is he...?"

"He sends his best. He's on his way and he should be here soon. You caught him away from home." The man's face softened. "I'm sorry I couldn't get you out of there any quicker. Took me a while to sort things out."

"The police..." Rusty said. "They're-"

"They're not interested anymore. Case is handed over to my team."

"Your team?" He frowned.

Bobby flashed him a brief smile that said it wasn't the first time he'd had to explain and it wouldn't be the last.

"My team. I really am FBI."

Wow. Rusty blinked.

"Yeah," Bobby smiled again and the smile was warmer. "I get that a lot."


	38. Conversations

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: did not create the characters in the Ocean films.

Chapter Thirty-eight: Conversations

* * *

Callahan stared impotently at the door that Ryan had disappeared through and felt the dissatisfaction of an unfinished job rise up within him. Ryan had a story to tell, that much was obvious. Callahan hadn't made his mind up yet whether it was as a spectator or an instigator.

The trick with the piece of paper had worked as it so often did. Shook out a bit of information that wasn't otherwise going to be forthcoming. The 911 call. Ryan had suddenly offered up the fact that it wasn't made from his phone and Callahan felt sure that was the truth. Oh, he needed to pull in a few favours to check the records but he'd like to lay money that the call had indeed come from Rick Goodman's phone. And yet Rick hadn't been there when the response team had arrived.

Callahan took time out to contemplate Ryan and Goodman working together. Maybe between them they'd attacked the other three. It could work if they'd overpowered one of the men and threatened the girl… Maybe Ryan and Goodman were more than casual acquaintances. Maybe Ryan had got tired of the kid and traded him in for an older model. Possible, he guessed. Mind you, that was all he had. Possibilities and guesses.

He frowned, picked up the phone and dialled a number.

"Holt? Callahan. Do me a favour, would you, and bring me through all the paperwork on the Ocean case. Yes, I know the Feds are taking it over. Well, if they want the file, you can tell them where to find it."

* * *

Felicity was still sleeping when they walked back through the door. A glance at Rick, tense and pacing, told Rusty there was still no news on Danny.

"Who's this?" Rick demanded.

"Bobby Caldwell," Rusty explained. "Friend of a friend of mine. Bobby, this is Rick Goodman, Danny Ocean's partner."

Bobby nodded acknowledgement in Rick's direction and got a curt twist of a head by answer.

Callahan and the interview flashed before Rusty's eyes and he sighed. Rick needed to know.

"I've screwed up," he told him. "I had to tell the cops that I made the 911 call from your phone. Told them I couldn't find mine."

Rick stared at him for a long, long moment.

"You moron," he whispered.

Rusty said nothing. Rick was right. He'd been stupid. Truth was the easiest thing to sell. He'd been working to his original plan where he took Felicity into town and Rick stayed with Danny and he'd lost sight of the threads of the web he was weaving.

Rick walked up to him, invading his space, his face in Rusty's.

"You fucking _moron!"_

The last word was spat and with difficulty, Rusty refrained from flinching.

"Hey." Bobby insinuated himself in between them. "Lose the anger, Rick, we're all on the same side here."

"That remains to be seen," Rick muttered but he took a step back anyway. He glared at Rusty and scowled. "What am I supposed to do if they question me about it?"

"You could try going with rude and aggressive," Bobby suggested pleasantly. "You appear to have those two nailed."

Rick ignored him. "Do you know what I told them in my statement?"

* * *

The paragraph stood out as if it had been highlighted in bright yellow neon.

"_Rusty told me on the phone that something had happened."_

"Oh, no, he didn't," Callahan smiled grimly.

Amateurs. Lying took talent.

* * *

"Story number one," Rick said and he wasn't letting Rusty wriggle out of this one. "Story _you_ came up with. Said that you rang me and told me about this almighty fucking _mess_!"

He looked at Rusty with contempt and hatred and he wanted more than anything to blame someone for what had happened. Why not Rusty? Why not? Since this fucking pretty-boy had pirouetted into his life, into _Danny's_ life, then there'd been trouble. Leaving Danny to get beaten up, letting Danny get punched and kicked and worked over, fighting Danny… Why not now? Why not something Rusty had done that led to this unholy carnage…

Rusty's eyes stood up to the accusation and the anger. They told Rick that they understood the need to lash out, to find a focus for the pain that was raging through him uncontrollably.

For a moment, the fury almost won. For a moment, Rick imagined grabbing Rusty and punching and punching till he had him down on the ground, blood running freely… Then he looked again at the misery and guilt that Rusty couldn't hide even though he probably wanted to do so and he could see the look in Danny's eyes if he took advantage of that. It was the hardest thing in the world but he mastered himself. He swallowed hard and shrugged dismissively.

"Well, it's done now."

"It is," Bobby agreed, shooting a sideways glance at Rusty. "I'll work on it."

* * *

There still hadn't been any news on Danny other than the fact that he was still in surgery and that it was likely to be several hours still - early morning, in fact – before he came out.

"Felicity needs a proper bed," Bobby had murmured, smiling genially in her direction as Felicity stirred and sat up, blinking at the stranger.

Rusty nodded. He felt drained himself and he'd faced death before, _seen_ death before: he couldn't begin to think what Felicity was going through.

"You need rest too." Bobby looked at Rick and Rusty. "You both do."

Both of them immediately shook their heads.

"I'm staying here," Rick said stubbornly.

Rusty opened his mouth to say the same and then he caught sight of Felicity staring at him, face tight and close to crying.

"Alright," he agreed. "I'll take Felicity back to the Imperial."

* * *

The night receptionist at the Imperial had been at first politely uninterested and then accommodating as Rusty had greased her palm with greenbacks; she rearranged bedrooms so that he and Felicity were opposite each other.

"If you need me, just phone my room or knock on the door," Rusty told her as they stood in their respective doorways.

Felicity gave him a quick smile and nodded. "Thank you, Rusty. For everything."

"No problem, Felicity," he smiled back at her. "Thank you for telling me everything. You don't need to go through that again now that I know. I'm the only person you need to tell."

She nodded again and then hesitated.

"He was very brave, you know," she said and Rusty's reassuring smile froze. "He didn't beg at all. Neither did Danny. At least…" her eyes clouded. "At least, not for themselves." She blinked several times and then added fiercely, "I want you to know how brave he was."

"I do," Rusty whispered. "He was."

"Good," Felicity said firmly. The little burst of energy left her. "Good," she said again and stepped inside the room.

Rusty stared at the closed door for infinite minutes before stepping into his own room and shutting out the world. He kicked his shoes off, dropped his jacket on a chair and lay down fully-clothed on top of the bed, pulling the counterpane up and round him.

"_He was very brave."_

Rusty gazed up at the ceiling in the half-light and wondered if there was some place past agony.

* * *

Bobby strode back through the doors of the police department and saw the keen cop – Callahan – still on duty, typing away on a keyboard.

"You working late?"

Callahan swung round and Bobby saw the recognition dawn.

"Sir, I know you're handling the Ocean case now, but there's some information you need to have."

Bobby put on his best professional face: smooth and polished exterior and giving nothing away.

"Well, let's find an office and you can tell me what you got."

* * *

"_London?" Ed stared down at the plane tickets._

"_London."_

_Eduardo's eyes lit up and Rusty's lips twitched._

"_Something tells me you always wanted to go."_

_Ed grinned at him. "I always wanted to go."_

"_That's what I thought. That's not why we're going." Rusty's face grew serious. "I want to introduce you to a guy called Roman Nagel. Electronics genius and that's just his opinion. Don't be intimidated by him or he'll milk it for all its worth. He's expensive but he's quality. You can rely on what he gives you and he's honest enough to tell you if he can't deliver."_

"_And how often can't he deliver?"_

_Rusty smiled. "He's always managed it so far."_

_Roman had been dramatic as ever but beautifully mannered and Rusty had watched Eduardo, respectful but the right side of overawed, and Roman genuinely liked Ed and somewhere deep inside Rusty, some emotion rose up which with surprise he realised was pride. _

_Afterwards and they'd walked out of Roman's current dwellings on to Oxford Street and strolled in the sunshine with the shoppers for a while._

"_This way," Rusty suggested and Eduardo followed him, trusting as ever._

_The open top bus tour took them round all the sights. Westminster Abbey, the Houses of Parliament, Buckingham Palace… Sunglasses on, Rusty glanced over at Eduardo sitting next to him, grinning delightedly and he grinned back, reaching over and stealing a handful of potato chips._

"_You've got your own bag," Ed pointed out with amusement._

"_They taste better when they're someone else's." _

_It was true. They always did._

_They'd gone to the Ritz for afternoon tea._

"_The Ritz?" Ed murmured as a liveried doorman held the door open for them._

"_Why not the Ritz?" Rusty shrugged. "Not like we're short of funds at the moment. Not like it would stop us if we were."_

_There'd been éclairs and cream tea and fancy cakes and bone china and Eduardo smiling back across the table at him and the happiness was rich and he didn't want a partner but Ed and he _were_ partners now and Rusty would be lying if he said he didn't feel that happiness, Ed was happy and he was happy, he was-_

* * *

Rusty woke up and the warmth of the dream memory flooded over him. London had been fun. Maybe Eduardo would want to visit again. Ed's choice, of course, Ed would have to-

Reality hit like a juggernaut.

His chest tight with painful pressure, he lay on the bed and he gasped in great gulps of air. It hurt, it hurt so _much_.

The airport. Running after him.

"_For sure?"_

"_For sure."_

If only…

Eduardo would have been on a plane. Eduardo would be with Carter. Eduardo would be a thousand miles away. Eduardo would be _alive…_

Ed would be alive.

Rusty's mouth twisted. His fault. He'd listened to ridiculous sentiment and he'd let it sweep aside years of the pragmatic and the self-sufficient. He'd listened to Danny. _(Danny's fault?)_.

"_Eduardo loves you."_

Eduardo did. So very much.

His fault. If only.

And now Ed was gone.

* * *

He didn't think sleep would come again. He didn't think sleep would _ever_ come again but he was wrong. His body betrayed him with tiredness and the only good thing was that there were no more happy dreams.

Rusty woke to a headache rocking through him, some vague thought of a missing detail and Carter perched on the edge of his bed, a soft smile of sympathy on his face.

"Hey."

"Carter…"

At once, he felt lighter as if just by having Carter there, the need to think and act and decide had lessened. As if Carter was some kind of miracle-worker.

"Sorry I couldn't get here any sooner."

"Bobby said you were away." Rusty sat up stiffly.

"Bobby's a good guy."

"Yeah. I like him."

Carter studied his face and Rusty was willing to bet he was reading everything that Rusty was feeling: the grief and the guilt.

"Think we've been here before," he said and Carter's face flickered with emotion.

"I'm just glad you're going to let me help this time."

Rusty said nothing.

"I'm sorry I never got to meet Eduardo."

Rusty felt in his pocket and pulled out the little box with the coin.

"We were going to bring this back to you today. Eduardo should have brought it back to you yesterday."

Should have. Would have. If only.

Carter took the Dollar from him and his brief touch was comfort offered. Rusty denied himself the comfort. He didn't deserve it.

"We should start by getting you some breakfast," Carter suggested.

"I don't want food," Rusty said immediately.

"You _need_ food," Carter told him decisively. "Come on. Then we'll head back over to the hospital."

* * *

Felicity was awake when they called for her and she shook hands with Carter in a manner that suggested that she refused to be fazed by any number of friendly strangers. Still in shock, Rusty thought. He empathised.

Carter was the perfect gentleman. "We were planning on having a spot of breakfast, Felicity, and then heading over to see how Danny's doing. After that, perhaps I could run you back home so that you can pick up a few things?"

"Thank you," she said clearly and brightly. "I would appreciate that."

As they sat down at the breakfast table, the missing detail coalesced in Rusty's head.

"Reuben," he said by way of explanation as he pulled out his phone. "Reuben Tishkoff. Danny thinks of him like a father." His fingers dialled frantically. "He needs to know what's happened to him."

"Oh, Reuben," Felicity said, wide-eyed. "He'll be devastated."

Carter's hand closed around Rusty's.

"Reuben's on his way."

Rusty stared at him, believing but full of disbelief. "Reuben's…what the…how…?"

"After you called me, I called my friend, Scott. The one who mentioned Danny's name to me."

Rusty remembered.

"Scott knows Reuben and he said he'd call him. Reuben's on his way."

Carter Pryce. Miracle-worker.

* * *

The day before yesterday, Rusty would have said that Rick looked like hell. Only now, hell looked like something completely different.

Rick stared hostilely at Carter. "You one of Rusty's friends too?"

"Name's Carter." Carter held out a hand and Rick looked like he wanted to argue the social nicety but his shoulders slumped and he shook hands.

"How's Danny?" Felicity asked.

"They brought Danny out of surgery a couple of hours ago," Rick said tonelessly. "They said he'd been stabbed in the chest. Wound missed his heart by an inch. They said he was lucky."

_(SomeWhere, there was a flash of a hollow smile.)_

"How is he now?" Rusty asked urgently, trying his best not to complain about the fact that Rick hadn't called him.

"He's unconscious. They're keeping him that way for a while." Rick's voice shook a little.

Carter's phone rang, breaking the moment.

"Yes, Bobby. Yes, he is. OK. OK. Thanks." He snapped the phone shut.

"Bobby's on his way over. He wants to talk to you, Rusty. Rick?" Carter's voice grew gentle and persuasive. "You need to rest up. Freshen up." As Rick opened his mouth to protest, Carter went on, "Danny needs you strong and alert. There's nothing you can do and he's not even going to know you're gone. I'm running Felicity back home to pick up a few things. I can drop you at the Imperial. Makes sense for us all to be in the one place. Rusty will phone us if there's any change. Right, Rusty?"

Right. Carter had it all planned.

"Right."

* * *

It was at least two hours before he ought to be thinking about waking up but then Callahan's body clock had a mind of its own and he'd learned not to argue with it.

He rested his hands behind his head and traced the crack in his ceiling with his eyes. It was getting bigger, he was sure of it. Maybe the landlord would do something about it when the flat above landed in his bedroom.

Callahan thought back to last night's conversation with Bobby Caldwell. The man had impressed him. Serious, capable, professional. Exactly how an FBI agent should be. And he'd _listened_ to Callahan, really _listened._ He hadn't dismissed any theories out of hand and he'd been very interested in the 911 call mix-up and in the out of place coffee cup they'd found.

"_What's your name again, detective?"_

"_Callahan, sir. Without the 'g'."_

_Bobby has cracked a half-smile as if he understood that this was a regular explanation._

"_Well, Detective Callahan, I think you have very good instincts."_

_Callahan had felt the swell of pride inside._

"_I'll check all this information out personally," Bobby told him, "and I'll get back to you. Personally."_

"_Thank you, sir."_

_And that was a sign of class, Callahan thought, that Federal Agent Bobby Caldwell hadn't said "Call me, Bobby". Hadn't made the mistake of diluting authority with a desire to be one of the boys. There was a little respect being demanded here and Callahan was very willing to offer it._

_Bobby stood up and shook his hand._

"_Good job, Detective Callahan. You know, the FBI is always on the look-out for men like you."_

Callahan smiled up at the cracked ceiling. There was no doubt in his mind that Bobby Caldwell wouldn't stop until the conflicting evidence was resolved.

* * *

Phoning home while he was away was a habit that Bobby didn't have to train himself to remember. The hard part was not wanting to jump on a plane and run back home afterwards.

For a start, Molly. And for another thing, Linus. He missed them. And that was without even hearing whatever current domestic incident was occurring. Seemed like Linus was determined to be the archetypal troubled teen and Molly never volunteered the stories but she knew better than to try and hide them from him. He'd definitely have been on the first plane back then.

As it was, he felt certain she didn't tell him the half of it. And she _could_ handle it. He had every faith in that fact. She could handle it better than he could. Every time he tried to speak to Linus recently, he'd ended up coming over as more and more judgmental and that wasn't him.

He hoped that the day would come soon when Linus would look at him and not be convinced that his old man was a complete waste of space. So much to teach Linus. So much for Linus to learn.

His thoughts drifted back from the trials of being a parent as he walked in to the relatives' room and saw Rusty sitting on his own. He looked up as Bobby approached and his eyes had a haunted tinge to them which he did a good job of disguising as soon as he recognised Bobby.

Bobby smiled and sat down next to him.

"You'd think this room'd get more crowded," he said conversationally.

Rusty's smile was reflexive.

"How'd you get on?"

"Got Callahan onside, I hope. He's a good cop. Pity, because it would be easier if he was sloppy."

Rusty nodded as if in agreement on this point.

"Don't think it's anything to worry about. He's got a piece of circumstantial evidence that I reckon I can get round. And Rick's statement. Think I can work round that, too."

He did his best to project genuine reassurance. Rusty looked as if he was still beating himself up about letting his grasp of details slip.

"Anything you want to ask me?"

Rusty hesitated. "Can I…can I see Ed?"

Bobby's turn to hesitate. He'd seen Eduardo's corpse and even cleaned up, there was no hiding what the kid had been through.

Rusty's eyes told him that Eduardo couldn't look any worse than he had done yesterday.

"Sure thing. Later, though. Some things I need to do first."

Rusty nodded. "I'll be here, I guess."

* * *

Carter had suppressed the instinctive growl as Rick had climbed into the front seat of the hire car. All the innate chivalry inside him had expected Rick to offer up that front seat to Felicity and he had to tell himself not to say a thing. This was a man whose partner had nearly died. Who was perhaps still going to die. Recovery was by no means certain. Rick probably wasn't functioning anywhere close to normal.

"You have any idea who'd do this?" he asked casually and Rick shook his head.

"None. Some crazy gang. Like Charles Manson."

Well, it was a theory. Not one that Carter could imagine Rusty coming up with, but still.

There was silence for a while and then Rick's fist thundered into the dashboard, startling him and drawing a squeak from Felicity.

"I want to make them suffer," Rick said in a low voice. "For what they did." Twisting round, he glared at Felicity. "You sure you didn't see a thing?"

"No," she replied. "I told you. Danny pushed me in the cupboard before the men came in the house."

"You didn't look out the window? You didn't hear anything? You just sat in the cupboard and let it all happen in front of you and you can't tell me a goddamned thing-"

"Enough!" Carter snapped. "Leave her alone!"

Rick had the grace to look shame-faced.

"Sorry. I… Sorry," he said tiredly.

It was directed at him not at Felicity but it would have to do.

Carter pulled the car to a halt in front of the Imperial. "Get some rest, Rick. We'll see you later."

As he pulled away, he glanced at Felicity in his mirror. White-faced and shaken up and no doubt wishing that the past twenty-four hours could be bleached from her mind. Last thing she needed right at the moment was interrogation.

The phone call from Rusty had caught him in mid-con. A con that he'd abandoned immediately. Rusty needed him.

"_There's been…Eduardo's dead. Danny Ocean…the man I told you about…he's really badly injured. And his wife, Teresa, she's been killed…"_

He'd called Bobby first and then Scott. It seemed unlikely that there were _two _Danny Oceans. And even though it had been many, many years, he still remembered the glow in Scott's voice when he spoke about Danny. It took someone special to impress Scott.

"_Reuben Tishkoff," Scott had said at once. "He's the closest thing to family that Danny has. I'll get in touch with him."_

"_He'll be taken to St Jude's."  
_

"_You make it your business to know every hospital in the country?" Scott sounded darkly amused._

"_Scoped out a con nearby a year or so back," Carter explained. "Was going to use it as a cover but in the end, the con never happened."_

"_I'll get there as soon as I can. Anything I can do before I get there, you let me know."_

It would be good to see Scott again. If only it didn't take catastrophe for that to happen.

* * *

They'd asked him if he wanted to see Danny. Danny wasn't conscious and it would only be for a moment, but did he want to see his friend? Danny was stable. Still critical, but stable. Did he want to-

"Yes," he managed. "Yes, I want to."

There was a bed and there were plastered limbs and tubes and monitors and wires and a very little tiny part of recognisable Danny. Face swollen. Jaws wired shut. Eyes shut. Shut off from the world. Shut off from everything and everyone.

His left arm was free and uninjured and Rusty reached out a tentative hand to brush against it. Danny felt warm.

"He's doing well," the nurse next to him said and then qualified, "As well as can be expected. The first twenty-four hours are the most critical."

Rusty stared down at the broken body in front of him. The blame he'd half-assigned to Danny for what had happened shrivelled away. This was no one's fault except...

_You fight,_ he told Danny silently. _You fight._ _And then we fight back._


	39. Coming Round

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: surely there must be _some _kind of loyalty card bonus… I mean it works at Starbucks...

Chapter Thirty-nine: Coming Round

* * *

The crime scene tape was plastered all over Danny's house, closing off the scene of horror. Felicity stood and stared and remembered.

"Hey…"

The nice man, Carter, was there at her side and Felicity could feel the reassurance exuding from him. He reminded her of Rusty and she wondered briefly if they were related.

She gave him a smile that said she was _not_ going to break down and be a nuisance. With determination, she turned towards her house and then hesitated.

"_Neighbour's not home, Tony. Car's gone."_

They'd been in her house. They'd been in her home. They'd… She pressed a hand to her mouth.

"Would you like me to come in with you?" Carter offered.

"That's kind. Thank you."

A large black ball of fur shot out of nowhere and rubbed against her legs.

"Oh, Canute…" Felicity reached down and stroked the cat. Guilt flooded her. "I forgot about you."

Canute's furious purring suggested that he forgave her.

"You lived here long?" Carter asked as she opened the door and they stepped inside.

"Just over seven years," Felicity replied. "My husband and I used to holiday in Vermont. It's such a peaceful place." She swallowed. "Usually."

She swayed for a moment and Carter's hand squeezed her arm, offering stability. He led her towards a chair and she sat down, Canute occupying her lap immediately.

"Let me make you a cup of coffee, Felicity."

Silent witness to the horror and the horror itself had been beyond imagination. Shock had kept her together so far. The comfort and the gentlemanly behaviour from Carter were just too much. She disappeared into floods of tears.

A large white handkerchief was pushed into her hand and she took it gratefully, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose, startling Canute down to the floor as she did so.

"I'm sorry, Carter," she sniffed. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologise." Carter's voice was warm and kind. "I'll find that coffee."

Canute meowed hopefully.

"I'll find you some food too," Carter offered.

She'd composed herself by the time he walked back through with two cups.

"I put a little sugar in," he told her. "Think you could do with it."

"Thank you," Felicity said, sipping the hot, sweet drink. "I'll be alright now."

"You're doing brilliantly well," Carter said sincerely, sitting down opposite her.

She looked at the man, tall and broad-shouldered and so gentle-mannered in spite of his size, the waves of empathy just rolling from him and that _meant _something...

"I'd like to hope that you've never been close to anything like this before," Felicity said. "Something tells me that it isn't the first time."

Carter's eyes clouded briefly. "Kind of an occupational hazard. Not a regular occurrence, thank God."

She nodded and didn't push him.

"Rusty's fantastic, you know."

The smile on Carter's face was immediate and wide. "He is, rather. Always has been."

"Tell me a little about him," she said impulsively. "Please."

He took a sip of coffee thoughtfully and then nodded.

_The first time he'd met Rusty, he'd seen the bright eyes, the quick intelligence that Saul had told him about, taking everything in and digesting it. The boy was good-looking, beautiful almost, and there was an easy grace to him. Brains and looks and the ability to carry himself. Carter could see why Saul held out such hope for Rusty to be a success at the con. _

"_Carter Pryce," he said, extending his hand._

_There was the briefest of pauses as he himself was weighed up. Then his hand was shook, firmly and confidently._

"_Rusty Ryan."_

"He was young and he was precociously brilliant. I can still see him handling a pack of cards with the skill I'd expect in someone ten years older. Effortlessly in control."

Felicity nodded. Those three words certainly summed up Rusty.

"Thing is," Carter's voice had a musing quality to it, "he has this self-sufficient streak in him. Thinks he can deal with everything himself. And stubborn beyond belief." Carter shook his head. "He was over at mine for Thanksgiving one year and he collapsed in the kitchen with a fever. Turned out he'd been ill for nearly a week and was rooted in the belief he didn't need to tell anyone. Idiot."

The last was affectionate and exasperated and Felicity could imagine Carter telling Rusty that a number of times.

"Rusty looked after me so well. After…" She swallowed. "Afterwards."

"You know," Carter sounded hesitant, "if you think it would help to talk about what happened at all…"

"No." At once and definite. She didn't want to go through it again and she'd told Rusty and Rusty had promised that would be enough. Her heart started racing. "I didn't see anyone. I didn't see anything. I didn't. I-"

"OK, OK," Carter said hurriedly. "It's alright, Felicity, you don't have to."

Slowly, she got her breathing under control.

"I'd better go and pack some things," she said. She frowned. "Canute…"

"We'll take him with us."

"The hotel won't-"

"The hotel will," Carter assured her in a way that suggested he was telling the truth.

Upstairs, she pulled a suitcase out from the wardrobe and busied herself in the packing. There was something instinctively comforting in routine.

* * *

The coffee was lukewarm. Rusty swallowed it anyway and told himself to remember to drink the next one. Back in the waiting room and alone with his thoughts and the thoughts were of dark and misery and pain.

Twice in his life, there'd been violence that took and deprived without feeling; a thief that didn't work to any kind of code of honour.

Twice in his life, he'd been taught that caring was as much a fool's game as "Find the Lady". Really, he ought to be a better pupil.

He glanced up and saw Reuben walking up the corridor. Reluctantly, Rusty pushed away the maelstrom of feelings and got to his feet, smiling a welcome.

"Reuben."

Reuben looked like shit. He looked like he'd fallen on to a plane and not slept and not stopped travelling till he'd arrived. Which was probably exactly what had happened.

"How is he? Is he…sorry." Reuben shook his head at his own lack of manners. "Sorry, Rusty, it's just…"

"He's got through the operation," Rusty said at once. "The doctors are keeping him under for a little while longer but they say he's stable and he's fighting. They'll probably let you see him. I mean, they let me and I'm…"

He was nothing to Danny. And Reuben was…

Reuben gave a quick nod. "Seeing him would be good."

Seeing Danny wasn't good at all. Rusty found his fingernails digging in his palms as he stood at Reuben's shoulder and they stared down at the hospital bed and its unconscious occupant. Danny was as lifeless as he had been when Rusty had found him the previous day. Only the shallow breathing indicated life at all.

Reuben's face screwed itself up and hesitantly, Rusty put a hand on his arm.

"You look like you could use a drink."

"Whisky. And lots of it." Reuben took off his glasses and ran a hand over his face. "But I'll settle for a strong coffee."

* * *

The hospital canteen was only half full and they found a seat easily.

"Who did this?" Reuben's hands were fists and his knuckles were white. "What animals…did you see his jaw?"

Rusty nodded silently. He'd seen Danny's jaw. He'd seen Danny's jaw before it had been wired up like he'd seen Ed's mouth, slit open and bloody and toothless.

"Bastards!" Reuben slammed a fist down on the table and made his coffee cup jump.

And Rusty wasn't going to argue with that.

* * *

_**SomeWhere…SomeTime…**_

Her hair was silver and feathered close to her head and she wore the face of an old woman, lined and worn. Her fingers were playing with her long necklace of pearls. Silver eyes were focused on a thread of life that was faintly golden.

"Watching does not make any difference," the other pointed out.

"It does no harm either," she replied, unblinking, only her fingers betraying her restless thoughts.

She felt the cool grey gaze turn away and then she leant over the thread and breathed out softly. It didn't count if no one saw.

* * *

Coffee had turned into lunch. Reuben glanced at the pager on the table.

"You think that thing's turned on?"

Rusty picked it up and stared at it and gave his verdict. "Yeah."

Reuben stabbed at his salad and Rusty knew that in his mind's eye, he was driving the fork into Danny's attackers. Reuben was on a little timelag as far as the raw emotion went.

"I'm sorry about your partner," Reuben said, his head still bent over his plate.

"Thanks." So was he.

"You think this is my fault?" Reuben murmured and Rusty frowned. "I mean, you two wouldn't even have been in the country if I hadn't-"

"No!" Rusty was definite. It wasn't Reuben's fault for recommending them and it wasn't Danny's fault for the ridiculous sentiment. It was anyone's fault except...

"No," he said again and Reuben lifted his gaze and looked comforted.

"I'm not much of a praying man," Reuben told him. "But that seems to be all I've been doing since I heard." He chewed a piece of chicken mechanically. "After Matt…Danny's father…" Reuben's fingers looked like they were itching for a cigar. "After he died, Danny…"

He tailed off, pain and memory on his face.

"He told me," Rusty said quickly.

"Danny told you?"

"A little. Enough to know how much you matter to each other."

Reuben smiled for the first time since he got there. "Danny's kind of special."

"Yeah." Danny was.

* * *

Waiting downstairs in the easy chair, Carter answered the phone to Bobby.

"How's it going?"

"OK. I guess." And that was pretty positive for Bobby. "Little phone record manipulation. You?"

"With Felicity. She's packing some things. And a cat." Carter stared down at Canute on his lap. Canute appeared to have decided to adopt this man who had fed him.

"I'm heading back over to the hospital."

There was a pause and Carter wondered what Bobby had actually called about. He was on the verge of asking when Bobby continued.

"Rusty wants to see Eduardo."

Well, that was…that was understandable. Didn't stop Carter's face tightening at the thought.

"I need… Damn it!" Bobby sounded unusually perturbed. "Carter, there's something I need to do and I don't… Rusty…"

Carter got it. Rusty wouldn't like it.

* * *

Rick walked into the canteen, saw Reuben and concentrated on keeping his face neutral. Reuben didn't like him. He'd never been anything but deferential and polite to Reuben even when Danny hadn't been around but Reuben didn't like him. He'd gone out to Belize and been beaten within an inch of his life in Reuben's cause but Reuben didn't like him. Well, that was OK. Rick didn't have to like him either. Any more than he liked Reuben's lunch companion. And look at how cosy the two of them were.

Rusty saw him first and nodded and then Reuben turned round and Rick saw the coolness in Reuben's eyes.

_Danny had been inside for six months now and even if he did say so himself, Rick had done a damn fine job in keeping in touch with Danny and looking after Teresa. _

_The cons though…they'd been nickel and dime. Nothing interesting, nothing clever, nothing like what he'd done with Danny. All of which brought him to Reuben's casino and Reuben's office and a seat opposite Reuben._

"_Thing is, Reuben…" His mouth was suddenly dry and that was stupid. Not like Reuben was going to deny him. "Thing is, I have some expenses that need meeting."_

"_Expenses?" Reuben's voice was sharp through the cloud of cigar smoke._

"_Yeah, expenses." Rick waved away the smoke that had drifted over his side of the desk. "You know Danny asked me to take care of Teresa, right?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Yeah, well…making sure she's got food and the electric gets paid-" _

"_That's all taken care of."_

"_Yeah, well…phoning Danny and stuff…" Rick ran a hand over his mouth. "It all adds up."_

_Reuben said nothing. Rick felt the heat rise in his face._

"_After Belize," he said and saw a muscle in Reuben's face twitch. "After Belize, I'm sure Danny and I have your full support."  
_

_Reuben took a long drag on his cigar and blew the smoke out slowly. Then he reached into a drawer and pulled out a bundle of notes. Rick watched in fascination as Reuben counted out one hundred, two hundred, three hundred…_

"_I still find it amazing that Danny was caught," Reuben was saying._

…_four hundred, five hundred, six hundred…_

"_Fucking set-up," Rick agreed, his eyes on the money._

…_a thousand. Reuben tidied it into a neat pile and held it out. Rick took hold of it but Reuben didn't let go._

"_I'm glad you're standing by him, Rick. Man needs good friends at times like this." _

_Rick nodded. It would take a lot more than this to make him desert Danny. Reuben's eyes seemed to be looking for something that he found. He let go of the money and nodded._

Reuben was nodding now. Sitting at the table and nodding and the bleep of the pager was sudden and startling and welcome in so many ways.

"Danny," Reuben said and they moved.

* * *

Pain.

Fog.

Pain.

Groggy and blinking and his face felt swollen and he opened his eyes with difficulty and there was something wrong with his mouth and his legs felt heavy…

Teresa! The thought leapt through him like a lightning flash.

_Hands on Teresa, hurting and her eyes staring at him, bewildered and confused and looking to him for answers, looking to him to make it stop, make it better and he couldn't, he couldn't… He was on the floor and they were holding him down and the man called Nelson had Teresa and she was face down and facing him and…_

"_Danny…?" Broken and uncomprehending._

_He thought his heart might break. He thought his heart had broken. He'd begged and begged and he'd never know what he'd said, what words he'd used but the men weren't listening, the men weren't stopping…_

"_Mr Ocean." Tony. Tony was going to ask him again. "You want to tell me who you work for?"_

_It was "Marathon Man". A question being asked that couldn't be answered however much he wanted to. These men weren't looking for Doug Quentin as an answer. They thought there was something much more deliberate going on here. _

_Tears ran down his face. _

"_Very well. Carry on, Nelson."_

The scream sounded raw and hoarse in his head. It came out muffled. He tried to raise his hand – either hand – but they didn't seem to want to work. Danny tried to turn his head but his head wasn't cooperating either.

Teresa. Teresa and Eduardo. Oh, fuck, the kid…

_There was a moment. There was a moment – before Lloyd got to work with the knife - when they'd both been punched and they'd both hit the floor and their heads were close together._

"_Eduardo..." _

"_Please, Danny." Eduardo's eyes were beseeching him. "I should have died two years ago. Please."_

_And he didn't need to say this was about Rusty. This was about Rusty. This was…_

"_Please," Eduardo whispered. _

_He couldn't do what the kid wanted him to. He couldn't call him Rick and go along with the lie. He didn't deny the lie either. _

He heard the moan and he felt the tears running down his face and the ache of betrayal and hopelessness and helplessness was deep in his bones.

* * *

"He's come round," Man in White Coat was saying as they stood outside the door. "He's conscious but he's still in a lot of pain."

"No shit, Sherlock," Rick muttered.

"Can we see him?" Reuben asked.

"The doctors are with him at the moment but…yes. When they come out, it should be fine for you to go in. Just two of you though because we don't want to overwhelm him. And not for too long. We don't want to tire him out."

Man in White Coat smiled the patronising smile of one who holds all the cards. He reminded Rusty of Luke Turner who had also thought he was winning. Right up to the point where he found out he wasn't.

"So. Which of you will it be?"

"Reuben and Rick," Rusty said at once before Rick could demand and Reuben could look awkward. "They're closest."

He turned and walked back down the corridor.

Bobby caught up with him before he got back to the waiting room.

"Come on, son. If you still want to-"

"Yes." He did. He owed it to Ed.

* * *

The police morgue was decorated in grey. Rusty supposed that that made sense. It was hardly a cheerful place where bright firework colours would make a difference. If you chose to work in a morgue, it probably wasn't for the scenery.

Bobby had leant against his shoulder as they'd walked into the room together. Casually and briefly but it was support and it reminded Rusty of Carter and, further back, of Saul. Bobby was definitely out of the same stable.

The mortician opened the little door to where Ed's corpse lay and then Bobby asked softly for a moment alone. The man stepped outside and when they were on their own, Bobby looked at Rusty.

"You ready?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak and Bobby pulled the metal tray out and folded the sheet back.

Eduardo. His eyes closed, thankfully, though Rusty could still see them wide-open, glassy and staring. They'd closed his mouth up but the wounds either side made him look like he was sporting a hideous grin. The sheet covered the rest of his body but Rusty could imagine the multiple injuries and the bruises and the many ways they'd inflicted punishment.

_Ed…_

Rusty stood and wanted to say a million things that he'd never been able to say and that he'd never be able to say.

_Ed…You were gentle and you were clever and you were funny and you made me care. You made me fucking care. _

Tears were threatening to fall and he blinked them back furiously.

_I cared, Ed. I do care. And I know what you did and I know why you did it and I want to shout at you so much because this isn't how it was supposed to go. This isn't… I loved you too, you know. Not like… I loved you for you. And you had to go and fucking die- _

"Rusty…?"

The tears had made good their threat. He wiped his eyes hurriedly.

"'m OK."

"You done?"

"Yeah."

Bobby nodded and then looked awkward.

"Rusty, I need Eduardo's help to make sure Felicity is kept out of this."

"What?" He didn't understand.

Bobby held up a coffee cup. "I need his prints. I'm sorry."

It felt like a violation. It felt so wrong. Bobby's face told him he knew but it was necessary. He nodded and turned away as Bobby lifted the sheet.

* * *

"Agent Caldwell!"

Callahan sounded pleased to see him sitting at his desk.

"Detective Callahan. I promised to come back to you."

"Yes. Sure. I mean, you've got an answer?"

"Yeah. I think so."

The story Bobby spun was convincing and detailed and Callahan frowned and nodded and half-questions fell out that Bobby answered immediately.

Realising he didn't have his cell phone with him, Rick had called from a public phone to see if he'd left it behind. He'd been expecting Danny to answer it but it had been Rusty who had told him what he'd walked in on.

"And the coffee cup?"

"I checked. The prints are Mrs Ocean's. Looks like Danny tried to save her. Pushed her into the cupboard to protect her. Then at some stage, she was discovered."

Callahan shook his head. "There were three coffee cups. There were two on the table."

Bobby nodded. "There were three victims, Detective. I'm not great at math but even I can work that one out."

Callahan's mouth opened and closed a couple of times and then he nodded, finally accepting.

"And Ryan…?"

"Ryan is cut up over his partner's death. Still in shock."

"So who do you think's behind this?"

"I'd be interested to hear your thoughts."

Callahan swelled with pride. "I think there's a drugs link. I reckon Ocean had some sort of run in with another dealer and this was the result."

Bobby pursed his lips and tilted his head on one side. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if that's not the case. Investigations continue, Detective."

* * *

The coffee was lukewarm again. Rusty hardly noticed. Warmth was a relative term anyway.


	40. Decision

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: Danny and Rusty. So not mine.

A/N: forty chapters. Am tempted to say "Bloody hell". Not least because I was convinced at one point that this would all be over in thirty-five. *much hollow laughter*

Thanks to everyone who's still reading and following this. And Zaira? I hope your week is less asterisky! :)

Chapter Forty: Decision

* * *

The doctors – they hadn't been introduced but he felt sure they were doctors – had done something to the tubes stuck in him and had left.

Danny closed his eyes and swam, adrift in a sea of pain, physical and otherwise.

"Hey…"

His eyes fluttered open and there was Reuben and there was Rick and he wanted to say something and all he could do was smile with his eyes. And then whatever the doctors had done with the tubes started working and drugnumbness flooded through him. His eyes fell shut again.

Soft words of comfort and gruff words of relief faded in and out like a radio station with a poor signal. Someone – probably Reuben, definitely Reuben - squeezed his left hand gently. He heard Rick telling some sort of joke about bedbaths and Danny didn't have to see Reuben's face to know it was wearing a disapproving expression. Reuben didn't like Rick. Danny wanted to tell Reuben that the joke was just down to nerves, that Rick didn't cope well with seeing Danny injured but he still couldn't make his mouth work and his eyes were really heavy. He settled for squeezing Reuben's fingers instead.

He drifted off to sleep still holding Reuben's hand.

* * *

Time passed.

Reuben and Rick had gone.

Danny looked at his plastered limbs, the catheter, the intravenous lines feeding him. His left hand travelled up to his face and touched wires. He pulled the sheet away and looked down at his chest with its raw scarring and the bruising.

Dully, he recognised that his body was a mess. And he didn't give a damn.

* * *

Darkness. All-engulfing. All-surrounding.

He was lost and frightened and alone.

He tossed and turned, searching for the light and the way out.

Suddenly, there was a hand brushing his cheek and another hand holding his and it felt soothing and comforting and it was as if the light was just around the corner and the way out was close by. He relaxed.

* * *

Time passed.

Danny woke with thoughts of Teresa. Beautiful, trusting, fragile. Broken and bleeding.

_"Danny...?"_

He wondered if there was a place past agony.

* * *

Time passed.

He opened his eyes again to see a man he didn't know and Felicity sitting beside him. Felicity. Relief shot through him and he forgot that he couldn't and tried to smile. She seemed to understand anyway and smiled back at him.

"Danny…I'm so pleased you're recovering. Healing. I wanted to say thank you for looking after me. If it hadn't been for you…"

If it hadn't been for him, there'd have been no death and no danger. Teresa would be alive. Eduardo would be alive. He closed his eyes briefly and then forced them open once more.

Felicity was speaking again. "Rusty and Carter – this is Carter – they've looked after me splendidly."

Good. That was good. And Rusty wasn't there _(and where was Rusty?)_ but this Carter was and he thanked him with his eyes. Carter nodded acknowledgement. Carter. The man Eduardo was going to see. The man who had provided the Dollar. Rusty's friend. A memory tickled…

"I wanted to make sure you were OK," Felicity said. "I mean…" She faltered. "I wanted to make sure you were…" She broke off and knotted her fingers together.

Danny's hand flailed in her general direction and she clasped it.

"I don't want to go back home," she said in a rush. "I don't want to be in that house again."

He understood. Not like he was in a hurry to go back home either. Not like he was ever going to call it home again. Not like he thought he could ever set foot in that house again. Not like he needed to see the house to remember.

Carter had moved to put a hand gently on her shoulder. Danny liked that. If he could, he would have done the same thing.

"Felicity's going to stay at her sister's for a little while," Carter said and the man's voice had a hint of the capable and the competent.

"I'll keep in touch," Felicity told him. "I just…I just need some space…"

Some space away from the nightmare. Because no amount of time would ever be enough. He tried to show that he understood with his eyes. That he was OK with her leaving.

Felicity kissed his fingers.

After they'd gone, the tickle of memory resolved itself.

"_Carter, I need your help."_

Rusty. Rusty staying with him in the darkest of times, Rusty letting him know he wasn't on his own, that Felicity was safe. He'd heard him. And then, even though Rusty had kept his voice low, he'd heard the phone call.

"_Carter, I need your help. There's been…Eduardo's dead. Danny Ocean…the man I told you about…he's really badly injured. And his wife, Teresa, she's been killed…"_

He'd heard the emotion in Rusty's voice. The despair and the grief and the vulnerability. And he'd heard the words. Awful. Final. He felt the nausea rise up within him and he fought to keep the vomit down. Not the best idea when your jaws were wired together.

He needed to see Rusty.

* * *

Time passed.

He opened his eyes – easier, the swelling was subsiding - and found Rick and a stranger. Another stranger.

"This is Bobby Caldwell," Rick explained. "FBI."

Instinctively, Danny's heartrate increased. FBI. Here. Investigating. The Doug Quentin job? Maybe Hemingford Grey had got them involved. Identified him somehow. And Rick was there but where was Rusty? Was he safe? Had he got away? Was he-

"It's OK, Danny," Bobby said. "I'm one of you."

One of…? His eyes widened. _Wow…_

"Yeah." Bobby smiled. "Yeah." His tone grew business-like. "I've tidied up one or two loose ends. Cops aren't going to be troubling you with awkward questions."

"Bobby's been great," Rick said with unexpected praise. "Sorted out a real fuck-up courtesy of Rusty."

Bobby's mouth tightened for a second and Danny read the distaste at the indirect.

"Wasn't a problem," Bobby dismissed. "Anyway. Wanted to say that as far as the police are concerned, this is being handled by my team. Afraid there's some assumptions being made about your record. I told them we think there's some big players out there. Cases that we're working on and people that we're after."

There was a pregnant pause and Bobby was looking at him, not quite asking the question, not quite _not_ asking. Telling him that he would wait.

"We're gonna get them, Danny," Rick vowed. "We're gonna-"

Whatever else Rick said was lost as the pain spasmed through him, crippling him.

* * *

Darkness. Loneliness. Emptiness.

And no one was there to keep him company.

* * *

Time passed.

Through blurry eyes, he saw the man at his bedside, small and worried and familiar.

"Sss…" he managed and now his eyes were blurry for another reason.

"Shh," Scott said at once. "Don't try to talk."

"Sss…" he hissed futilely and frustratedly.

Scott shushed him again.

"Rest," Scott instructed. "I'm here."

Scott was there. Danny let himself slip into peaceful sleep.

* * *

The doctors moved him to a private room and that had to be a good sign. They talked over him about healing time and he registered the fact that he wasn't going to be getting up and about any time soon.

Reuben. Rick. Felicity. Carter. Bobby. Scott. They'd all come to see him.

He wondered where Rusty was.

* * *

Time passed.

He heard the voices first. He lay and listened to the voices, low and careful, and he thought about opening his eyes but his eyes weren't co-operating. So he just lay and listened.

Scott. And Carter.

"…you haven't heard from him at all?" Scott was asking.

"Not a word." Carter sounded grim. "Took off and I don't know where he's gone."

"You think he's-"

"Don't know. Wouldn't put it past him."

"But, then-"

"You think I don't know, Scott?"

There was a silence.

"He always this impulsive?"

Carter snorted and Danny smiled inside. "You have no idea."

There was a pause and a sigh. "Oh, yes, I do."

"Danny." It wasn't a question.

"I wish I'd handled things better."

Scott sounded miserable and Danny wanted to say something but he couldn't. All he could do was lay and listen.

"Danny was just exceptional." Scott's voice grew wistful. "Some of the ideas he had..." Scott sighed. "I wish Danny had come to me when he started working again. I didn't even _know_ he was working again."

"With this Rick."

"Yeah. What do you know about him?"

"Not much. Bobby said he gave Rusty a bit of a rough ride over the story about the phones."

"Huh."

"Rusty can handle himself," Carter said. "I'm just hoping Rick's has better skills than he has manners. I'm not impressed."

"Yeah. Got the sense that Reuben's less than thrilled with him too."

"Thinkthere'sastory?"

"_Know_there'sastory."

"Reubengonnashare?"

"Ohyeah…"

Words slurred together. Danny gave up trying to separate them and slept.

* * *

Darkness.

He wasn't alone.

He woke to a soft monologue of raw emotion.

"…think you know yourself so well. You think you know exactly how other people affect you, how you affect them, what impact you have on each other…" A sigh. "Mitch. Mitch was family. I _never_ saw the set-up from Mitch coming. Not in a million years."

_(Mitch set Rusty up?)_

"And I never thought Ed would be so… I never thought I'd miss him so much." A quiet laugh. "See, you were right about that. About how I'd feel if I'd just let him go. But if I _had_ just let him go…"

What might have been and soundless sobs. Danny reached out instinctively and more by luck than judgment caught Rusty's hand. Rusty jolted in his chair.

"You're awake."

In the half-light, Danny's eyes told him he already knew that.

Rusty regained his self-composure.

"How much of that did you hear?" he demanded and then sighed. "Guess that's a rhetorical question."

Danny's tongue felt thick and heavy and his jaws were locked together and he wanted to say how sorry he was about Eduardo, to tell him he knew how much he must be hurting, to thank him for looking after Felicity…a hundred different things. Frustrated, he turned his head away. He couldn't tell Rusty a damn thing.

"Hey…" Soft and gentle. "It'll take time. You've got stitches in your mouth…it's gonna be a while."

Danny nodded, agreeing, accepting and still annoyed. He looked at Rusty.

_You OK? _He asked with his eyes.

Rusty's laugh was abrupt.

"I'm just dandy."

Danny's fingers tightened on his and Rusty looked down as if surprised that they were still holding hands but he didn't pull his hand away.

"I talked to Felicity," Rusty said softly. "I know who did this."

Danny's eyes were unblinking.

"Tony." Rusty's eyes were still on their intertwined fingers. "I met him at Larner's. A set of muscles poured into a suit. He paid Perry Grafham a visit."

Perry. Danny swallowed. He'd forgotten about Perry.

"Felicity mentioned his name. I went looking for him. He's alive," Rusty added hurriedly as if suddenly sensing the tension in Danny. "Bit worse the wear for Tony's fists but he's alive."

Larner's. The leech. Perry. His place… The trail danced in front of Danny's eyes again.

"So I know how they arrived on your doorstep, looking for you and Rick. I know…" Danny saw Rusty take a deep breath and force himself to go on. "I know Ed turned up and told them he was Rick and I know why."

Danny heard the guilt – ripe and rich - in the last three words.

"I know," Rusty whispered. "I know it was Tony and it was Nelson and Lloyd and others, two or three others. I don't know their names yet but I will. I will."

Leaning forwards, Danny clutched at his hand and Rusty looked at him.

_Rusty, don't-_

_S'OK. _

_It's…?_

"It's OK."

_Like fuck it is!_

"No, really." Rusty sounded earnest. "Look, I told you after Mitch and Saul I went looking for the man responsible."

Yes, he had. And he'd told Danny about what he'd done to find that man. Danny felt the shudder deep inside him.

"When I finally caught up with him, he was already dead." Rusty's eyes were blue and fierce. "I know what it feels like to have vengeance taken away from you. I won't deny you that. We wait."

_We wait. _Danny nodded. The promise given, he relaxed back down on to the pillow.

"I should go," Rusty said suddenly. "It's nearly morning and Rick takes the early shift. He… I should go."

Danny frowned for a moment and then his brow cleared. Rick wouldn't be short of something to say. He wouldn't be able to help himself and Rusty didn't want any kind of atmosphere in front of Danny. Well, he could handle it. He kept his eyes carefully neutral. He wasn't going to beg Rusty to stay. Rusty's decision. Rusty gave him a lop-sided grin and made it.

"Well, I don't always do everything I should."

_Do you ever?_

"It's been known. Not very often. Ed says…" Rusty tailed off and Danny's grip grew tighter. Rusty had to know that he was there for him.

"I'm sorry about Teresa," Rusty said instead and Danny felt the tears start again.

Both of Rusty's hands were wrapped round his. Danny let himself fall into the well of comfort.

* * *

Rick opened the door to Danny's room and stopped short. Rusty was there. Golden Boy had been notable by his absence of late and Rick had almost convinced himself that Rusty had taken off. But, no. Rusty was there. He looked like he'd been crying. He was holding Danny's hand. Danny looked like he'd been crying. And now Rusty was laughing gently and they were looking into each other's eyes like there was no tomorrow. Fucking love-in. Rusty taking advantage of the fact that Danny was a captive audience. Rick's mouth twisted.

"You been here all night?" he asked.

"You talking to me?" Rusty shot back.

Well, of _course_ he was talking to… Rick bit his lip.

"Carter was looking for you."

"Thanks for letting me know."

Damn fag wasn't showing any signs of moving.

"Do you mind?" Rick said finally. "I would like to spend some time with my partner."

Rusty's eyes flickered a little at the word "partner". Then he stood up and looked down at Danny.

"Whatever you do, do not, under any circumstances, go to that dance class tonight. I'm warning you."

He moved away from the bedside, gave Rick a glance of cool amusement that seemed to Rick to be just a little bit forced and walked out of the room. Rick took his place beside Danny.

"Guy should be able to take a hint."

Danny looked like he wanted to say something. Rick sighed. Like that was happening.

* * *

Carter's eyes had shown a relief they couldn't hide if they'd wanted to when he and Scott walked into the little anteroom and he saw Rusty sitting there. Rusty acknowledged the concern and the welcome.

"You have a good trip?" Carter asked.

Rusty shrugged. He wasn't going to discuss where he'd been. Carter's lips twitched as if he understood that that was about as much information as he was going to get.

"You had breakfast? Scott was going to look in on Danny and then we were going to grab some."

"Breakfast sounds good," Rusty admitted. It usually did.

"Good," Carter smiled brightly. His face grew serious and his voice more compassionate. "Listen, obviously we're going to wait for Danny to get better before Teresa's funeral but I wondered if you had plans for Eduardo. Is there anywhere that you want to take him?"

Ed had no immediate family. He'd been on his own when Rusty had met him.

"Don't think Ed ever expressed a preference for where he was buried." On account of him being twenty-two.

"I wondered if you'd like to bury him next to Mitch."

Rusty nodded wordlessly. That seemed like a plan. Carter's plans. Carter taking charge. Everything settled. Rusty stopped himself from gritting his teeth.

* * *

The meeting wasn't planned. They'd walked back to the room from breakfast and found Reuben and Bobby chatting in low voices. Rusty leant silently against the wall, arms folded and watched as the discussion broke out spontaneously.

"What are we going to do?" Reuben murmured.

"First step is to find out who did this," Scott said and looked at Bobby who shook his head.

"Got all the ears to the ground. No one's sharing."

"You think this was to do with the Quentin job?" Carter asked suddenly.

There was a pause as the question was considered.

Reuben said thoughtfully, "Doug Quentin will tell you at length that he was turned over by a girl called Alisha and a man named Anton."

"Maybe it's worth finding this Alisha and Anton," Carter suggested.

Carter in charge. Carter planning. Rusty's nails found his palms.

"Can't hurt," Bobby shrugged. "You got details?"

Four pairs of eyes turned to Rusty. He was saved from answering by Rick walking out of Danny's room.

"He's sleeping," Rick announced and then seemed to realise that he'd walked into an important conversation. "What's going on?"

"We're talking about what we do," Reuben said shortly.

"Who's we?" Rick asked sharply. "Don't think it's down to any of you to do anything."

There was more than one snort.

"Rick's right," Rusty said quietly. He pushed himself off the wall and looked round at the frowns.

"Rusty-" Carter began.

"No. It's not your fight, Carter. It's my fight because of Ed, Danny's because of Teresa, Rick's because of Danny. We'll handle it."

"We just want to help," Carter replied. "The men who did this are dangerous. You need us."

"I just got through promising Danny we'd wait for him to heal. And once he has, we'll deal with this."

"Rusty-"

"Carter!"

They stood in front of each other, glaring and staring and the others in the room seemed to melt away.

Carter swallowed. "Scott just found Danny again. I just got you back. We don't want to lose either of you again."

Emotion. Cheapest negotiation trick in the book. Like logic and threat, it cost nothing.

"Danny isn't going anywhere, Carter. And I don't think I was yours to lose in the first place."

He saw the almost flinch.

"We can work better as a team, Rusty. We can find them more quickly. We can deal with them more effectively."

Logic. And that left only...

"Next time," Carter added, "maybe we won't be able to come running."

"It's not your fight," Rusty said with emphasis. Time for a little emotion of his own. "I know what it feels like to lose someone important in your life. And not being able to avenge them? That's a killer too."

"Rusty-"

"Leave it, Carter."

Rusty's head snapped round to stare in the direction of the unexpected support. Scott was at Carter's side.

"Losing someone..." Scott said gently and his eyes were on Carter's, "...losing someone special...all that pain, all that anger... It needs an outlet, Carter. It needs a focus."

There were waves of unspoken conversation going on between Scott and Carter.

"We can't take that away," Scott told him softly.

The silent exchange continued and then Carter's shoulders sagged. "Alright." He looked at Rusty and his expression was resigned and pained. "Just call me again if you need me. Please."

Rusty nodded. It was easy to agree to. Need had a movable definition.

* * *

He'd stepped outside for fresh air and he'd found a bench. Rick had found him.

"You mean what you said?" Rick demanded.

"About what, precisely?"

Speaking to Danny had been a kind of catharsis but he felt tired and drained and after the scene with Carter, he was really not in the mood to deal with Rick's hostility.

"About waiting. I mean it's all fresh at the moment. We wait for Danny and we'll lose the scent-"

Oh. That.

"I know who it was."

Rick stared at him. "_What?_"

"Felicity overheard some of the conversation."

A snarl started to form on Rick's face and Rusty guessed that he'd asked Felicity questions with no results.

"It's the auction house. The operation behind the auction house." He ran a hand through his hair, tiredly. "Guess they took exception to being made fools of."

Rick stood and digested the information.

"You got names?" he asked urgently.

Rusty shrugged. "Some. Not that it matters."

"Not that it matters?" Rick was incredulous.

"The order will have come from the top. From Constantine. Though in my book, they're all guilty."

"I want to kill them all for what they've done."

Rusty nodded. The need to feed the anger with revenge was burning deep within him too. But he'd promised Danny. They would wait.

"You can't really mean to wait," Rick said. "You're not the patient sort."

No, he wasn't but he could be. He would be. He'd promised Danny. Besides...

"Going in all guns blazing isn't going to work. They've got heavy security. We'd be dead before we reached any of them."

"I'd still like to give it a shot," Rick muttered darkly.

"We need a plan." And Danny was good at plans. They would wait. Rusty thought of Danny's eyes as he lay in the hospital bed and they talked about vengeance. Killer's eyes. They'd wait.

"We've got a plan," Rick said suddenly. "Danny's plan. Tear them down from the inside. We get hold of that little black book of theirs and we _ruin _them." There was unadulterated glee in his voice. "We annihilate them. And then we kill them."

Rusty shook his head.

"Coward!" Rick snapped. "Thought you were all about daring to dream big."

He sighed. "They're not idiots. If we break in and take the book, they'll change everything. All the drops, all the meets, everything. And we can't keep breaking in to the place to look at it."

Rick seemed to want to argue - didn't he always? - and then he let out an exasperated sigh. "Well, that's it then. I guess we wait."

Rusty sat very still. Because if plans were Danny's specialism, then making plans work was his.

"It could work." The words were hardly breathed and he wasn't even sure he'd said them aloud.

"How?" Rick frowned. "You just got through saying we couldn't do it."

He balanced for a seesaw moment. Danny. Promises. More than one promise. And Eduardo. Teresa. Danny. And the fact that it didn't matter. It really didn't matter. He looked up at Rick.

"We _can_ do it," Rusty heard himself say. "If we have an inside man."

* * *

A/N: am certain if you looked up Rusty in a dictionary it would define him as an idiot. Sigh.


	41. Acceptance

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: did not create any Ocean's characters.

A/N: S'been a while. Sorry about that. Trying to find my RM groove again. ;) Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Forty-one: Acceptance

* * *

Rusty heard himself say the words.

_"We can do it. If we have an inside man."_

He saw Rick staring at him uncomprehendingly and he saw the moment when understanding hit and Rick's mouth tightened. Well, he didn't care what Rick thought. This really wasn't about Rick. This was about Ed. This was about _doing_ something to the people who'd hurt and killed Ed.

His eyes dropped down to his sleeve and he brushed some imaginary fluff away.

"Don't tell Reuben and Carter," Rusty muttered. "Or Bobby and Scott. They find out who the target is and they'll want to do things their way."

Plus he didn't think he could bear to look at Carter. Almost as bad as looking in Saul's face and telling _him._ Carter would have that same look of disbelief and concern and distaste and no, Rusty really didn't want to see that. And as for…

"Don't-" he began and broke off, shocked to hear the hoarse emotion in his voice.

No place for emotion. No _need_ for emotion. This was all about the practical and the pragmatic. That's what he needed to focus on. There was no place for the squeamish in this and there was no place for the emotion. Rusty drove it far down into his soul.

"Don't say anything to Danny."

There. Strong and careless and his face was resolute as he looked up at Rick. Rick's eyes were full of the sneer and it didn't matter what Rick thought of him. He didn't fucking care about Rick. He could handle Rick.

(_A beach and Danny looking at him as if he was amazing…Danny _telling_ him he was amazing with every thing he wasn't saying…Danny asking him to take care of himself…Danny insisting that he _mattered…)

"Danny needs to heal," Rusty went on. "He doesn't need distractions."

Rick nodded slowly. "Fair enough."

"I go now, I can be in New York by early afternoon." Rusty got to his feet. "I'll phone you."

* * *

Sitting in the hospital canteen, Carter was stirring the cup of coffee over and over. The phone call from Rusty, the horror outlined and he'd swung into action and he _still_ wanted to do something. He still wanted to help. Wanted to show Rusty that he didn't have to do everything himself.

Round and round went the spoon until a hand closed over his and stilled it. He looked up without surprise to see Scott beside him.

"How much sugar did you put in there any way?" Scott asked as he sat down opposite.

Carter took a sip of the coffee and pulled a face. It was barely warm.

"Not enough to want to drink any more of it."

Carter pushed the cup to one side and stared across the table at his oldest friend.

"Reuben's sitting with Danny," Scott said and Carter nodded.

"You've got to-"

"I've got to-"

They spoke together and then broke off and smiled at each other. Old habits never died.

"I've got to get back," Scott agreed quietly.

"Yeah." Before he was missed.

"If it helps, I'm sorry I'm right," Scott offered and Carter flicked him a smile.

"You _love_ being right," he pointed out.

"True," Scott acknowledged. "I'm still sorry."

Carter's fingers knotted together on the table in front of him.

"Last time, with Saul and Mitch, Rusty just took off and I didn't know for…what….close on three years? That he was still alive. Someone saw him on a one night only tour of New York. I was just so relieved to hear he was safe."

He looked up at Scott.

"Saul would have wanted me to keep him safe."

Scott reached over and squeezed his arm.

"Saul would understand."

"Rusty was just so…" Carter's voice turned soft and nostalgic. "He handled cards at nineteen like he'd done so all his life. So cool and confident. Like nothing would ever surprise him."

"Like nothing could touch him," Scott murmured. "Like he was in charge of the world…"

Carter smiled. "Danny?"

"Yeah…the stuff he used to come up with… I told him he was going to be amazing. He just needed a good detail man."

"Well, _Rusty's-"_

He broke off and they looked at each other for a long, long moment of what might have been.

_Huh._

"I should have done more for Danny," Scott said, breaking the silence. "I should have thought more… This ridiculously noble streak in him. To throw his life away because of some girl…"

He broke off and his eyes were full of sudden apology.

"It's not-"

"I know," Carter said at once.

It was very different.

* * *

He was back inside. He was lying on his bed in his cell and his arms were wrapped around Teresa as she slept. Dear and precious and he held on to her tightly, his face buried in her hair.

A noise from outside startled. He twisted his head and Teresa sat up.

"Danny?" Soft and gentle and uncomprehending.

"Stay here," he whispered and he hid her as best he could, pulling the covers over the top of her.

The door to his cell slid open and cautiously, he stepped outside on to the landing.

The jail was cold and dark and empty except… he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the noise belonged to Mickey Mason and his boys. He could sense them heading with purpose through the darkness towards him, towards the cell, towards Teresa.

With a cry, he flung himself back into the cell only to find Mickey was already there pulling back the bedclothes.

He tried to scream but his mouth wouldn't open. He tried to move but he was rooted to the spot. Lloyd pushed him against the wall and Nelson grinned at him with that look in his eyes that said he was going to enjoy himself. He watched in horror as Nelson leant forward and pulled the occupant of the bed to their feet.

It wasn't Teresa. It was Rusty.

The look on Nelson's face didn't change one iota and he saw the resignation and the self-dismissal and the hell in Rusty's eyes.

_It doesn't matter, _Rusty was telling him and it did, it _did…_oh, God, it _mattered_…

"Danny?"

He opened his eyes to Reuben, anxious and sitting at his bedside, holding his hand. Nightmare. Just a nightmare. His heartrate gradually decreased to a mild canter. He squeezed Reuben's hand and Reuben smiled.

"Bobby's gone. And Scott and Carter and I've been talking about what's best for you. Think you're going to be here for a while longer."

_Yeah…_ Danny'd guessed as much.

"Then, when they let you up and about, we thought we'd find somewhere close by. Rent a house. Give you some healing time."

Because time would make all the difference.

"Rusty said…"

Danny's eyes grew sharp at Rusty's name, the flicker of nightmare still upon him.

"Rusty said you were going to go after whoever did this together," Reuben said slowly. "You and him and Rick."

That was right. That was absolutely right.

"We want to help. All of us do. But we respect that decision."

Good. Good. Because jagged thoughts of revenge kept spiking through him.

Reuben went on, "But, Danny, I care about you. I don't want to see you hurt. Be careful, won't you?"

He would. Six weeks, the docs had said. Six weeks minimum before his legs and his arm mended. Six weeks before they took the wires out of his jaws. Six weeks of planning exactly what and how. And he would do his damnedest to make it happen in five.

* * *

Rick looked in through the open door at Reuben and Danny, sharing a moment and he'd hesitated and decided against going in. Looked like Danny had company enough at present.

He headed down to the canteen and saw Carter and Scott in deep conversation. Rick bought a coffee and sat on a table by himself and thought about what he'd committed to. What the fag had committed to.

As plans went, it was a start. Wasn't what he wanted to do. He felt like bursting into Larner's with a machine gun and not stopping until a sniper took him out. But he recognised that this was more subtle, more_ classy_ – Danny had thought of it so of course it was. Rick liked the idea of stripping away the assets, of screwing up the operations and not being found out. Rusty going in undercover…well, that was…that was entirely in line with what he thought Rusty capable of.

He glanced at Carter and Scott and he thought of Reuben. Thought of their faces if he shared what Rusty was going to do. The temptation was great. Only thing was, they might stop this before it got started.

As for Danny…he wanted even more to tell Danny what was going on. To let him know what Golden Boy was going to do. That might just shake the scales from Danny's eyes. Danny couldn't even say a thing about it.

Yeah, telling Danny was tempting.

Thing with _that_ was, that Danny was resourceful. He'd get hold of a pen or a keyboard or a phone or something and he'd share the story with Reuben or someone.

Well. He could wait. No need to rush things.

* * *

Rusty sat in the taxi to the airport and concentrated on rebuilding his identity. This was a part, this was all it was and he'd played the part before. Successfully, at that. It made complete sense to repeat it.

This was all about preparation, he told himself. By the time Danny was up and about, he would have found out a hundred different details that would help the revenge proper. And in the meantime, if he and Rick could make a dent in the operation behind Larner's, so much the better.

He'd wanted to get away as soon as he could. Important to get to New York. There was diem to be carped.

* * *

Alex's morning was not going well. He still had a headache that had started the previous evening when Constantine had arrived home in a bad mood – possibly the _same _bad mood that he'd left in two weeks earlier. For every piece of news that had received a satisfied grunt of acknowledgement, there was another piece that triggered biting anger.

"_Why _haven't_ you replaced Alisha yet?" _

"_Lyle came _here?_ He dared to come _here?"

Constantine had disappeared off to bed and Alex could only hope that sleep improved his brother's temper.

This morning, Larner's was full of querulous clients and the headache throbbed back into life.

"I'm really sorry, Mrs Romer. We haven't received the valuation back yet. I'm sure everything is in order-"

He broke off as the doors opened and the heart-stopping and often dreamt of stood there. Mrs Romer was forgotten. Alex crossed the floor in a daze.

"You came back," he breathed.

There was a smile. A smile that made it feel like the sun was shining warm and wonderful and Alex's headache vanished.

"Like I could keep away," James murmured.

* * *

A/N: thanks to otherhawk for the preread as always. And acknowledging Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs - "Come on, Steve, we've some diem to carpe" - for Rusty's line.


	42. The answer to everything?

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own Danny or Rusty.

A/N: I will do my best to write and update this fic regularly. I have guilt about the three other fics I have on the go, too and they _will_ be finished also. Promise. :D However. I really don't know how long this particular fic will be. As I've said before, I thought it might be 35 chapters at one point and we're past that. Current thought has it at about 60 although otherhawk has a sidebet on it being 75.

If this frustrates you as a reader, I'm sorry but it's how it is. I hope you're along for the ride with me (however long that ride is) but if you can't bear the frustration of works in progress, then I recommend you only read the fic with "Complete" in the summary.

Everyone else? Thank you for staying with me. Your support is appreciated.

Chapter 42: The answer to everything?

_**

* * *

**_

SomeWhere…SomeTime…

The setting was a casino with a spotlit blackjack table and the other slid into the only seat opposite the dealer. Her hair was scraped back into a blonde ponytail and she was no nonsense and precise with her card-handling. Her fingers were long and oblate, musicians' fingers, and she played the cards like a virtuoso violinist would a Stradivarus.

"We betting again?"

Silver eyes glinted as she dealt two cards to each of them. "We haven't got to the first bet yet."

"No…maybe, we never will…" He glanced at the cards. He turned them over and exposed two Kings. "Stick."

Teeth were bared. "You need to learn to live a little."

Card fell on card fell on card fell on card.

"Five card trick."

A slight frown creased the other's brow. "I don't believe you can have six cards in a five card trick."

She laughed and there was wildness to the laughter. "Depends on the game."

* * *

"Champagne?" Alex smiled as the waiter poured two glasses.

"Champagne and truffles. Two of my three favourite things," James smiled back at him across the table.

Alex had allowed himself to be swept off to lunch and he was trying to concentrate on the menu but he kept glancing up and drowning in the rich blue and the gorgeous eyelashes.

"See anything you fancy, sir?" the waiter murmured.

"The foie gras," Alex said decisively, eyes on the menu, struggling to hold on to the smirk. "And the lemon sole."

"Times two," James added and the waiter melted away.

Alex sipped the champagne and did his best not to let anticipation overcome him. Just that _that _evening, _that_ night had been wonderful beyond words. And seeing James again… Heat shivered through him. He crossed his legs and settled back in the chair and thought about very cold showers.

"So…" James asked, leaning across the table and the top couple of buttons of his shirt were open and Alex could see that fine gold chain and tanned skin that he knew led down to taut, firm flesh – _really, _really _cold water_ – "tell me what's new."

Oh, that was enough to sober him up.

"Well…after you left, we had a really tough time." Alex's gaze dropped down to the tablecloth and the silver cutlery. "The auction was a complete disaster. You remember the Dollar?"

James nodded.

"It was a fake," Alex said in a low voice, barely above a whisper and it still hurt to say it, to remember…

"A fake?" James sounded understandably surprised. "What happened?"

Alex shuddered and hot memory flushed through his cheeks. "It was awful. Right at the end of the auction. There were so many people watching. And afterwards, there was so much publicity…"

"I can imagine," James murmured.

"All our clients…they were so worried. Our reputation was _mud_. And Mr Fitzwilliam…" he tailed off, horrified at himself and flicked an anxious look up at James.

James's eyes were full of warm sympathy. James hadn't noticed anything wrong. In fact, James probably thought…

"Mr Fitzwilliam's one of your important clients?"

"Yes," Alex smiled broadly with relief. That was one way of thinking of him. "Yes, that's right."

The waiter arrived with the starter and broke the conversation for a moment. They both dug into the rich-flavoured pate and toast and then James asked:

"So, did you find out how the fake Dollar got into the auction?"

Alex nodded. "One of our dealers. Girl called Alisha."

"Guess she isn't on the payroll anymore," James said lightly, crunching toast.

Alex's face froze but just for a moment. "No. No, she isn't." He busied himself with the foie gras and changed the subject. "Enough about me. What's new with you?"

James pulled a face.

"Well, Leonard Davison has dispensed with my services."

Services. Alex felt unreasonably jealous.

James gave a soft laugh. "He's off on a year's round the world cruise and he's not paying a retainer while he's gone. Thought I'd kick round the Big Apple for a while. See if I can scare up another client. And in the meantime…"

James's hand reached for the champagne and accidentally brushed Alex's. Alex felt the thrill run through him at the touch. So much so that the brainwave took a moment to hit.

"Come and work at Larner's!"

"What?" James looked startled.

"Come and work at Larner's," Alex said again and he'd never been more serious. "We have a vacancy on the dealers' desks and we need someone with the knowledge, someone who's…" Gorgeous. Sexy. He blushed. "Someone who's charming and who's good with people."

James's grin was wide. "You think I'm charming?"

The blush was deeper. He couldn't help it and he knew he was too obvious for words.

"Please," he said. "Consider it, at least."

"Oh, I'm definitely considering it." James ran a finger around his lips and Alex swallowed hard. "I don't know…"

Alex's face fell.

"I mean," James went on, "what's the policy at Larner's on staff relationships?"

The smile was back on Alex's face.

"It's very open," he assured him.

* * *

Lunch over and Alex on his way back to Larner's, Rusty checked in to a nearby hotel at random. Didn't matter where. There was just no way he was going to be staying at Maria's.

He checked his watch and grimaced a little then pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled.

"I am standing in the Dress Circle bar at the Royal Opera House about to see _Aida. _This had better be worth my time."

"Sorry, Roman. I need an identity."

There was a sigh.

"Very well. Just a moment."

The background noise died away abruptly and Rusty imagined Roman borrowing the manager's office.

"Right. Details."

"I'm James Gallagher."

"Spelt?"

He spelt it.

"Background?"

"Been scouting out pieces of art at auction for Leonard Davison who's now off exploring the world and doesn't want me anymore."

"Leonard Davison?"

"No one real."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

There was a silence and Rusty could almost picture Roman deep in thought at the other end of the phone.

"How deep do you want to go?"

Rusty considered. "It needs to hold up to professional scrutiny."

"OK. And I take it you want it yesterday."

"Yeah."

"Give me two hours. I'll call you back."

"Thanks, Roman."

He hung up and thought about lunch. Alex had been pleasantly overwhelmed. He hadn't had to try too hard to reel him back in. As for the job offer that had come out of the blue... Well, inside was inside. Having more than one reason to being seen around Larner's had to be good. And he felt certain he'd seen enough of the rare and valuable in his time to be able to actually _do_ the job. Maybe the gods were on his side, after all.

Right. Time to make the _other _call.

"Yeah?"

"Rick."

"Yeah."

So much hostility wrapped up in the one word: Rusty offered up grim and silent congratulations.

"I'm staying at the Freeman Hotel in Mid-town. Under the name of James Gallagher."

"OK."

Rusty ran fingers over his mouth. Reporting in really wasn't his thing. Ever. He worked on his own – he worked _best_ on his own – for a reason. But if this plan was going to work, he needed Rick, damn it. And that meant he had to put up with a degree of Rick. And it also meant he had to share the next bit as well.

"Met up with Alex."

"And…?" Interested.

Rusty's lips tightened. Yes. Alex was.

"Friendly enough reception."

"I bet."

Well, that was that. He'd told Rick where he was and he'd told him he'd made contact. He didn't need to carry on the conversation.

"Everything OK?"

Rick grunted. "Yep."

He wasn't going to ask. He'd be damned if he'd ask. And he was surprised at the force it took to hold the words back.

"Alright. I'll be in touch."

Rusty snapped the phone shut and headed for the bathroom. Suddenly, he wanted a good, hot shower.

* * *

Constantine had surfaced and shaved and was prowling the floor at Larner's when Alex walked back in through the doors.

"You look unreasonably pleased with yourself."

Alex couldn't stop the grin if he'd tried. "Might have solved one of our problems."

"Which is?"

"Might have found a replacement for Alisha."

Constantine looked at him thoughtfully. "I'm guessing by the way you're lit up from the inside like a Christmas tree that you've found someone talented, good-looking and up one Y chromosome."

Alex's grin widened. "James Gallagher. He's back in town and he's available."

Constantine's lips twitched. "But not for long."

No. Not if Alex could help it.

* * *

Roman was good as his word and called Rusty back five minutes shy of the two hours.

"You've got social security and a passport. You went to college in the Mid-West. You've spent a considerable amount of time in Europe. You are featured in a couple of newspaper articles and a Mr Leonard Davison from Illinois purchased a round the world ticket three days ago."

That was…

"Impressive."

Roman didn't deny it. "Also, expensive. You can send that young man of yours to see me with the money, if you want. I liked the way his mind worked."

His mouth shaped the words and there was no sound. He tried again.

"Ed's dead."

There was a long pause.

"My sincere condolences." Another pause. "This is for him?"

"Yes."

"Then I will get these flown out to you tonight. Give me your address and you'll have them by morning."

* * *

Sitting on the hospital bench in the bright Vermont sunshine, Carter smiled a hello at a weary-looking Reuben.

"Rick's with him. Thought I'd grab some fresh air." Reuben sank down beside him.

"You had lunch?"

Reuben shook his head and then nodded. "Think I ate a sandwich at some point."

"How is he doing?"

"Living between the nightmares, I think." Reuben sighed. "Poor kid."

Danny had to be nearly thirty. Carter gave an indulgent smile which broadened when he realised that Rusty was definitely past the quarter century mark too. Somehow, he was fixed in time as Saul's boy, the teenager with precocious talent.

"They're men," he murmured.

"Yeah," Reuben acknowledged. "Doesn't make a scrap of difference, though, does it?"

Not a scrap.

* * *

Dinner with Alex was a given. Rusty walked into the restaurant at the Four Seasons and the maitre d' showed him to the table where Alex was seated.

"Thank you, Paul," Alex said, smiling up at Rusty.

"First name terms? You bring all your dates here?" Rusty teased, allowing Paul to seat him.

Alex's eyes grew suddenly lonely. "Only the ones I want to impress."

"Consider me impressed," Rusty smiled.

* * *

Danny was sleeping again. He was in and out of consciousness like he was doing some sort of hokey-cokey and Rick sat and watched and bit his lip. He wanted Danny well again. He _needed_ Danny to be well again.

Danny stirred uneasily and opened his eyes, blinking up at Rick. Looked like he was in a shitload of pain still. Rick could relate to that. The boys from Larner's had done a real good job on him.

"S'OK," Rick whispered and he saw Danny's hand flailing and reached out and gave it a quick squeeze. "S'OK."

Whatever bad dream Danny had been living faded before his eyes. Danny swallowed hard, came back to himself and gave Rick a quick nod.

"Visitors have left," Rick told him. "Bobby's headed back to his day job. Scott's gone. Said he'd be missed if he stayed longer."

That didn't make any sense to Rick but he had a feeling it wasn't supposed to. And Scott had stood and looked at a sleeping Danny as if willing him to wake up so he could say goodbye. Hadn't happened.

"Carter's hanging around to sort a few things out. You got me and Reuben doing bedside duty."

There was a slow nod as Danny digested the information and then there was a frown and he looked at Rick and Rick could see the question in his eyes.

"Rusty? He's off enjoying himself somewhere. Guess he'll show his face again when he's ready."

* * *

The invitation to accompany Alex home had been trailed across the dinner table with every mouthful eaten and every sip of drink. Rusty had accepted.

It was what he wanted to happen, what he'd played for, what he'd _made_ happen… So why was he in Alex's en-suite, gripping the sides of the washbasin, staring at himself in the mirror and procrastinating?

Danny's face swam before his eyes and he'd promised him he wasn't going to do this again without telling him. Promised him that he'd let Danny try and find another way.

He closed his eyes. Eduardo was dead. So was Teresa. Danny was out of action. There was no other way.

He opened his eyes again and looked at James and James looked back at him.

There was no other way.

"James?"

Alex's voice. Gently concerned.

"Coming," he called and hit the flush.

James walked back into the bedroom, pulling his loosened tie free and dropping it to the floor.

"You always this untidy?"

"_You always this untidy?" Ed following the trail of candy wrappers round the apartment they were borrowing._

Not helpful. Focus.

"Apparently so. Think I might need house-training."

Alex moved closer and caught his hands in his, leaning forward and kissing him, gently, tenderly, then leading him to the bed.

Rusty stared down at the box of chocolates.

"Truffles," James smiled at Alex and raised his fingers to his mouth and kissed them. "And my third favourite thing?"

* * *

A/N: and thank you, Mr Adams, for the chapter title inspiration.


	43. Need

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing the boys.

A/N: mate, for you. Always, always, always.

Chapter Forty-three: Need

* * *

Early morning and Alex stirred, still awash with the warmth of satisfaction. He opened sleepy eyes to see James tying his tie and getting ready to slip away. It was déjà vu all over again and he couldn't quite hide the disappointment.

"You going?"

"Yeah," James said softly. "Think it would be best for my first day of work if I came in through the front doors."

Well, that made sense. Probably wouldn't be the best impression. Discretion was the watchword.

James walked back towards the bed and there was that easy grace and just the way he held himself was poetry… James leaned over the bed, over him and he offered up his lips for the kiss, tender and wonderful.

"See you later," James whispered.

* * *

Out in the empty corridor, Rusty made his way quickly and silently towards the elevator that led down to the street. It was all he could do not to break into a sprint.

The last time… The last time he'd done this, he'd gone back to Maria's and there'd been Danny…

"_Cheap and easy, Rusty. I didn't have you down as either."_

The last time… Self-hatred, flooding through him, _burning_ through him, smothering him… And he'd stood in the bar, so, so angry at Danny and at himself and Ed had been a convenient target…

Rusty swallowed.

Danny and Ed.

They were the reason he was here.

"Sir."

Lost in painful thought, Rusty's head jerked up at the greeting. The peripheral large man guarding the elevator resolved itself into Tony.

Cold horror ran down his spine. Tony, who had been part of the day of death and pain and loss. Only years of working the con, of dealing with the unexpected and remaining unflappable, kept Rusty's face free of emotion. Tony's own expression was polite and almost deferential but Rusty wasn't fooled. The courtesy afforded was all about the fact that he was with Alex.

"Morning," Rusty muttered and got into the elevator as quickly as he could.

He already wanted out of there and Tony's proximity wasn't changing his mind any. Tony reached past him to operate the elevator and Rusty found his teeth on edge.

"Alright, sir," Tony smiled.

"Fine. Thank you."

Rusty's smile was professional and fixed in place and only when the elevator had hit street level and he'd stepped out on the sidewalk did he let the smile slip.

Fuck, this was going to be harder than he'd thought.

Not the mechanics of it all. Alex was actually one of the least obnoxious sexual partners he'd had but the sex itself was the same as it ever was. Whomever he was with – _sweaty, swine-grunting Wilhelm…Gloria, who liked his mouth to be everywhere at once…Tanith, bony and demanding Tanith who needed commentary…arrogant Marc, who provided the commentary himself, fast and furious and filthy…_ Yeah, the people changed and the parts changed but the sex was the same.

He didn't want to think too much about it because the tidal wave of shame and humiliation and loathing was just waiting to drown him and the feelings were just painful and pointless. It was all a means to an end and it didn't matter. He needed to remember this.

No, the sex wasn't the issue here. Being around the people who'd killed and maimed… _That_ was hell.

Fuck, this was going to be harder than he'd thought.

* * *

The knocking at the door woke Rusty from dreamless sleep and he squinted at his watch. 7am. Back at the hotel, he'd hit the shower and then hit the bed. Sheer bloodymindedness had driven away restless thought and he'd slept: 7am was thirty minutes before he'd planned to wake up.

"Just a minute!" he called out, pulling on clothes.

He opened the door to find the unexpected.

"Well, you look like shit," Roman announced, striding into the room.

Rusty felt the grin appearing in spite of himself.

"Good to see you too. And I wasn't expecting a personal delivery service."

"I aim to surprise." Roman was clicking open his attaché case. "Passport, birth certificate, driving licence, tax details, papers. I've thrown in a college year book and membership of a couple of associations. Oh, and here's your credit cards."

Rusty inspected the plastic. Not brand new, nicely worn and this was the reason Roman was so good. The little touches.

"Bank account details," Roman went on, producing more paperwork. "References from the guy you worked for before Leonard Davison. Reference from Leonard Davison himself. He was tremendously pleased with you."

"Roman…" Rusty looked down at the beautiful forgeries. "They're works of art."

"Thank you. You may have them on account."

Rusty stared at him. "You don't _do_ accounts."

"Well, maybe I've started." Roman's mouth curved up and down again and he moved on quickly. "So. I would stay and let you buy me breakfast somewhere expensive but I'm on a straight turnaround. Meeting in Piccadilly this evening. If I'm not careful, I shall be already late for it. Buy me a meal next time you're in town."

The generosity overwhelmed him. He shook his head.

"Roman, I can't-"

"Oh, don't start getting sentimental. It really doesn't suit you and there's a danger my mascara might run. We done?"

"Yes," Rusty said quietly, accepting.

"Then I'm off." He turned round in the doorway. "And I'm still sorry to hear about Eduardo. Try to look after yourself. I hate it when dinner dates get cancelled."

"The Ivy. For sure, Roman." A promise.

Roman nodded and was gone. Rusty looked at all the little pieces of James Gallagher he'd left behind and felt the sheath of identity clothe him. It wasn't just about the details but they certainly helped.

* * *

Two hours later and James Gallagher walked into Larner's to find an anxiously welcoming Alex waiting for him. He held out his hand and Alex shook it.

"Thank you for this opportunity, Alex. I'll endeavour not to let you down."

Alex smiled. "I'm sure you won't, James. I've lined up the standard induction programme. Dick Wallace, our admin guy, will take you through the paperwork and all the back office stuff. And then Jennie Dexter, one of the other dealers, will show you the systems. You'll be shadowing Jennie for a week before you go solo. OK?"

James nodded.

Alex hesitated and glanced around then added in a low voice, "And tonight, maybe I could take you out to celebrate? If you'd like…"

"Oh, I'd like," James assured him.

* * *

Dick Wallace was in his fifties with nicotine-stained fingers, a bushy moustache and an air of world-weariness. Rusty watched him as he entered James Gallagher on to the payroll system and issued him with an employee number.

"Pay goes into your account at the end of the month. Any problems with your tax, let me know. I enjoy waging war on those IRS bastards."

"How long you worked here, Dick?" Rusty asked.

Dick shrugged. "Back before the Taylors took it over. Was run by Mr Larner." He shrugged. "Guess that's not surprising. Anyway, about five years ago, the Taylors arrived and cleared out most of the staff and brought their own people in. Kept me on to look after personnel records and prepare the monthly accounts. Guess they didn't fancy doing battle with the IRS either."

No. Rusty bet they didn't. He wondered how much Dick knew about the truth of what went on at Larner's. How much he suspected. Dick's role was obviously about keeping Larner's official face honest but someone who was that close to the figures? Who'd worked that long with Alex and Constantine? Surely he'd seen something… Then again, there was something to be said for wilful blindness. Longevity as an employee for one thing. And continued good health.

"Come on." Dick interrupted his reverie. "I'll show you the staff room." He fished in his drawer and pulled out a videotape. He blew the dust off it and studied it dolefully. "And you've got to look at this."

Rusty raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Nothing exciting. Believe me."

It was, in fact, a dated health and safety video that instructed Rusty how to bend and lift and warned of the perils of trailing cables and using chairs as ladders. Rusty looked at the flares and the hair and wondered if life had really been that perilous in the Seventies.

"Sign here," Dick instructed once it had finished. "Consider yourself now trained. You are now part responsible for any injuries you may sustain as a result of working at Larner's."

Yeah. Well, that would probably be true. He signed Dick's clipboard with a flourish and a smile.

"Alright," Dick said. "Let's do the tour."

* * *

Dick escorted him round the rest of the floor of offices.

"_Toilets... admin office you've seen already…"_

Rusty had. He still remembered the layout from the night he and Danny had broken in and he had to fight the instinctive urge to lead the way.

"_Store room…"_

Probably still with abseil ropes and a carefully replaced window.

"_To be honest, you won't need to go in there. It's kind of like the corner of the carpet where everything gets swept under."_

They made it to the elevator and Dick handed him a card.

"This has got your employee number on. Keep it safe. Use it to get up here from the main floor. Go on try it out."

Rusty stared at the panel inside the car.

"What's up lead to?" he asked, wondering what the reply would be.

The reply was immediate.

"Up is private."

Rusty smiled charmingly at him. "Well, that sounds suitably mysterious."

Dick's eyes flickered and in that moment, Rusty had the answer to his question. Oh, Dick knew a _lot_ about what went on under the surface.

"The Taylors live on site. Upstairs is out of bounds."

* * *

Dick took him down to the loading bay level and they stepped out on to a mezzanine floor, walking down a set of steps to ground level.

"Deliveries in," Dick said indicating one side of the area. "Deliveries out." He waved a hand at the far side.

Rusty's eyes took in the big dark-windowed room in between.

"And what happens in there?"

"Packing," Dick said abruptly. He indicated a door. "This takes us back stage of the auction room."

_Packing… _Rusty gave the room another casual glance. One-way glass. Keeping whatever was inside secret. And the room was underneath the staircase they'd walked down which suggested…

"Coming, James?"

"Yeah. Sorry. It's just such a big operation, isn't it?" He flavoured his voice with a hint of the overwhelmed.

"Certainly is," Dick agreed and Rusty heard the knowingness.

* * *

The auction room was as Rusty remembered. Standing where the auctioneer stood was a new experience. He glanced at the computer screen and unwillingly, his eyes dropped down to the wires below. He could picture the leech sitting there, lying in wait to ambush them. A trail that would lead to-

"You OK?"

Damn it.

"Fine."

Dick checked his watch. "Well, it's nearly lunchtime. You can probably do with some food. You want to try your card out? There's a vending machine up in the staff room. Or lots of people eat at the bar on the corner. Be back at the dealers' desks for 2pm and Jennie will pick up with you there."

"Thanks, Dick, for everything."

"No problem. Let me know if you need me."

* * *

Rusty wanted fresh air. He stood on the steps of Larner's and breathed in the traffic fumes and the stink of a passing garbage truck and he felt better for it.

Not the bar. A chance of running into Alex and he wasn't ready for that yet. He walked round the block and found a little diner, slipping into one of the booths and ordering the house special.

As he chewed the greasy burger, he thought about the loading bay. The elevator _had _to go down a little further than it officially did. Right into that room. Which meant that it also went right up into the secure areas at the top of the building. All those little spaces on the plans, little pockets of nothing. The holding cells for the paper, rock, scissors, the drugs, the jewels, the weapons… The illegal went in to that dark room and up into storage and then came back down again when it was time to move them on.

Rusty stared across the table and found himself wishing for a pair of dark eyes looking back at him. A sounding board for the thought. It made sense to him, but maybe Danny-

The gasp caught at the back of his throat and he felt clammy betrayal wash over him. Maybe _Ed_ would have been able to see the flaw in his thinking.

Ed.

He sighed and dropped the half eaten burger back down on to the plate and took a sip of not-cold-enough milkshake. He missed Ed. He took another sip and realised with surprise that he was missing Danny too.

* * *

With good grace, Danny submitted to Elaine, the middle-aged nurse with the smiling eyes and the efficient hands who washed him gently and dealt with the catheter and changed the drips.

"Something tells me you're an impatient patient, Danny."

He inclined his head in a way that he hoped said he was taking the Fifth.

"Don't you worry. We'll have you up and about in no time. The doctors here are the best and you've got the prettiest nurse on the case."

She smiled to show she was only teasing and reached behind him and rearranged his pillows. He wasn't up to polite flirting even if he'd wanted to. He hoped she wasn't too disappointed.

"You can step back in now," she instructed Rick and Reuben. "He's all presentable."

He didn't feel presentable. He didn't feel recognisable. The beard, for one thing. He couldn't remember the last time he'd worn a beard. At least it had stopped itching after the third day. He stared down at his plastered limbs and for the umpteenth time, wished he could heal by force of will alone.

"Some perks of being in hospital," Rick murmured, watching Elaine leave the room.

Danny couldn't stop the look and then he heard the shocked _"Rick!"_ which meant that Reuben couldn't believe he'd heard him either.

"What?" Rick frowned. "Just saying there's some nice scenery. Here."

Rick handed Danny a newspaper and Danny awkwardly nodded his thanks.

"How's the pen and paper working?" Reuben asked.

The pen and paper had been Reuben's idea. And Danny had tried, really, he had. But every letter was concentration and effort and took forever. Wasn't like he was left-handed. Still… He held up the sheet for Reuben to read.

"_Thank you_," Reuben deciphered and smiled fondly. "You don't need to thank us."

But he did. All of them. Bobby and Carter and Scott and Reuben and Rick and…

Where was Rusty? A frown flickered across his face. He hadn't seen him since the previous morning. Rusty had sat with him and they'd talked…oh, not him, well, not out loud but that hadn't seemed to matter. Rusty had understood him. He'd felt better just for having Rusty there.

Guiltily, he glanced at Rick. Rick made him feel better too, he told himself sternly. Just that…just that he missed Rusty.

* * *

Jennie Dexter was good-looking and professional and if her knowledge of valuable items was half as good as the image she presented, Rusty imagined that she was very successful at her job.

"This is how the system works," she explained. "You log on – you'll have to think of a password – and then you get the main screen up. Every time you deal with a customer, you log their name and details here, you put your notes on this tab here and if they have an item up for auction, you enter it here. Then when it comes to the auction-"

"-the electronic codes can trace the seller, the buyer and the dealer," Rusty nodded, staring at the screen.

He felt the look and gave himself a mental kick.

"It's similar to another system I've seen," James explained with a smile. "It's very thorough."

"Yes…yes, it is," Jennie agreed. "So. Let's go into demo mode and then you can have a play on it without messing up the database."

"Thank you." James was everything sincere. "I'd appreciate that."

* * *

The afternoon had flown by and with a start, Rusty had realised it was going home time.

"See you tomorrow," Jennie smiled and one or two of the others said goodbyes also. Seemed like he was doing a good job of fitting in.

Alex appeared.

"How did it all go?"

"Fantastic," James assured him. "Dick and Jennie really looked after me. You've got a good team here."

Alex beamed. "If you're not too tired, I've booked theatre tickets. _"Royal Hunt of the Sun"_. If that's OK. I mean, I don't know if-"

"It sounds like a real treat." Rusty didn't know the play and truly, all he wanted to do was curl up on a couch with fast food and a movie but he wasn't going to disappoint Alex.

"Here." The ticket ghosted into Rusty's hands. "I'll meet you there at seven."

* * *

Looking back, Rusty blamed it on an empty stomach. He seemed to have forgotten to eat much today and he'd thought there might be food beforehand which there wasn't or food during which was apparently frowned upon by the off-Broadway non-popcorn selling theatre. Honestly. What kind of night out did they think people wanted?

He'd sat next to Alex and glanced at the programme. Something about the Incas and the Conquistadors. Sounded a little too much like a history lesson. James smiled happily at Alex beside him and prepared himself to be bored. Then the play began and Rusty forgot about being bored, _almost_ forgot about being James.

The play was about meeting and marvelling…about trust and mistrust …about greed and gold and promises made and broken…about belief in the power of the unknown, the impossible…about love and friendship and sacrifice...

He looked at Atahuallpa's lifeless body that was never going to move again, never going to greet the sun, never going to…

"Hey…"

Alex, pressing a tissue into his hands. Rusty smiled his thanks and wiped away the tears he didn't know he'd been crying.

* * *

Afterwards and outside, Rusty suggested hotdogs from the stall opposite. Probably not James's food of choice but he didn't care. Alex had hesitated then nodded. Part of Rusty thought about the many suggestive ways a hotdog could be eaten but he told that part of him to shut the fuck up. This wasn't about enticing Alex. Alex was already enticed. This was about eating meat of dubious origin with ketchup and mustard liberally applied. He needed food. He couldn't afford another slip.

They ate the hotdogs in silence, sheltering up against the theatre as a light shower fell.

"Would you like to come back?" Alex murmured after a while. "I don't…I mean, I know you have a life outside of me…it's just…"

James smiled. "I'd love to."

* * *

Tony greeted them as they stepped out of the elevator.

"Good evening, Mr Taylor. Mr Constantine has requested the pleasure of Mr Gallagher's company for a few moments."

Alex flushed. "Constantine can go…" He shook his head angrily. "Tell Constantine that I am twenty-eight and he doesn't need to…"

He tailed off as he saw the look in Tony's eyes. Patient, understanding and absolutely not going to take no for an answer. He sighed and turned to James.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "Constantine can get a little protective at times."

"It's alright," James soothed. "I'll go see Constantine and then I'll come and find you."

"Don't be long," Alex sighed.

* * *

Tony led the way to the suite at the other end of the building from where Alex lived. He knocked respectfully.

"Come in," came the summons.

Tony opened the door and ushered him in. The room was painted richly red with opulent furnishings but Rusty only had eyes for the man stood in the middle of it.

"Ah..." Constantine smiled as he saw them. "Thank you, Tony. That will be all."

The door closed behind him and Rusty stood his ground.

"James Gallagher, I presume."

Constantine's hand was outstretched and with momentous effort, Rusty made himself accept it. This was the hand of the man who had ordered Ed's death. The handshake was abhorrent and lasted an eternity of less than five seconds. Rusty forced away the urge to start punching and not stop. Bigger picture time.

"Do take a seat. Brandy? Cigar?" Constantine proffered the humidor.

"Neither, thanks," Rusty said, sitting down in one of the high-backed chairs that faced each other.

"Well, I hope you don't mind if I indulge." Constantine poured himself a glass and lit up, then sat down opposite.

The silence stretched. Rusty tried to stay in character. James would be suitably nervous. He just hoped Constantine read his reluctance to be there as…well…reluctance to be there.

"You've probably gathered by now that I'm Alex's big brother."

Rusty nodded. "This some sort of big brother conversation?"

Constantine swilled the brandy around in the glass for a moment and then sipped it slowly.

"I take a very keen interest in the men my brother dates, James. I wouldn't consider myself a good brother if I didn't. I don't want to see Alex hurt."

Rusty looked at a face that was used to getting its own way and then some. At dark eyes that knew power and how to use it.

"Well, I don't want Alex hurt either," he offered.

Constantine grinned and puffed on the thin cigar. "Oh, I'm not expecting this to last forever. I'm not expecting you to get down on one knee and propose. I know that relationships run their courses and when they're done, they're done."

He blew a couple of smoke rings into the air.

"Alex is five years younger than me and I've been taking care of him practically all his life. I've looked out for him. I've taught him. I've protected him and I've kissed everything from skinned knees to broken hearts better. He's…" Constantine took another swig of brandy and didn't finish the sentence.

"You're very close," Rusty said to fill the space. "I can understand that."

Constantine smiled mirthlessly and Rusty realised that that wasn't what he was going to say.

"Alex has got a soft side to him. I don't."

Teeth gleamed and Rusty repressed the shudder.

"You treat him with respect, James. Or we'll be having a different kind of conversation."

A conversation with Tony and Nelson and Lloyd and… Rusty clenched his fists and nodded understanding.

"You can go," Constantine dismissed him and as Rusty stood up, added, "And, James?"

Rusty halted.

"If you're staying over, don't be late for work. I don't approve of the personal getting in the way of the professional."

* * *

Alex's expression was one part anger to three parts concern.

"What did he say? Did he threaten you? I won't have it-"

"Constantine was just making sure I knew how special you are. And I do."

"Interfering…he's always…" Alex broke off and stared at him. "You do?"

James reached up with his fingers and brushed his cheek. "I do."

Tension left Alex's shoulders. "I…I mean _you're_..."

James kissed him and Alex lost himself in glorious, dizzy joy.

* * *

He kissed Alex and clamped down on the self-disgust he felt. He couldn't let a trace of that emanate from James. He'd spotted the little black book on the table and he needed to distract Alex long enough to make him forget it.

Kissing Alex was distraction enough, it seemed. Clothes were cast aside and they were at the bed before he knew it. He looked at the little box of four truffles waiting for him.

James pulled one from the box and bit into it, letting the tiniest bit of chocolate fall on to his lips. His tongue flicked out to capture the crumbs and the moan from Alex was audible.

"Oh, _fuck…_James…"

James grinned at him. "Let's."

* * *

Alex was buried in post-orgasmic slumber. Rusty carefully climbed out of bed and picked up the book and glanced at Alex. Too risky to read it there. He bundled the book into his jacket and headed for the bathroom.

He eased the door shut and switched on the light, leafing through the inventory schedules. Last time, he'd been checking goods out. This time it was all about the goods in. Rusty scanned the pages, interpreting the code and noting dates and places and contact numbers. There was a shipment of jewels coming in to JFK on Sunday. Flight from Amsterdam. Brought in under the name of Newley. Good. A starting point. And there was a shipment of drugs coming in on Thursday, into Boston from Madrid. Under the name of Sylvester. Even better. Two for one. Result.

"_Alex is five years younger than me…I've looked out for him. I've taught him. I've protected him…."_

Out of nowhere, the words hit him.

"Oh, Ed…" he breathed.

The pages in front of his eyes shook. Rusty looked at his hands. They were shaking. With an effort, he stilled them and snapped the book shut. Useless. Pointless. He needed to focus. He needed…

His phone spilled out of his jacket pocket and he caught it before it hit the floor. He needed… Trembling, his fingers hovered over the digits, Danny's number screaming through his brain. He needed…he needed…

Rusty took a deep breath. He needed to calm down. Danny couldn't speak. Danny couldn't help him. And he couldn't tell Danny what he was doing. _Couldn't. _Danny's _face_… He swallowed and told himself to pull himself together.

What he _needed_ was to be tougher than this.

He stared at the phone and punched in the number. It rang once, twice, three times before it was answered.

"Fuck. You know what time it is?"

Rusty kept the volume to a minimum. "We need to meet."


	44. Relationships

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: they do not belong to me.

A/N: waving in direction of Black Forest!

Chapter Forty-four: Relationships

* * *

Rusty had slipped out in the early hours again. Away from Alex, away from Larner's, away from being James. It hadn't been Tony on elevator duty and for that, Rusty was grateful. Instead, it had been a shorter man with an eager-to-please smile - _"My name's Davey. You want anything, sir, you let me know. Davey's your man." - _who ushered him into the elevator.

And that was good right up until the moment where Rusty suddenly wondered if Davey had been one of the missing names. One of those blank faces that Rusty couldn't see. Fuck. He couldn't be sure of anything or anyone.

Back at the hotel, he'd showered and scrubbed and lain in his bed and stared at the ceiling, emptiness hollowing him out. He rubbed his fingers down over his face. He could do this. _(He had to do this.) _He could do this.

* * *

Alex arrived in Constantine's suite at the same time as Nelson who was clutching bagels and coffee.

"Joining me for breakfast, little brother?" Constantine stood in the doorway in his green silk dressing gown, his eyebrow cocked.

"I want to talk to you," Alex said in a low voice. He looked at Nelson. "In private."

"Well, we can talk and eat. That will be all, Nelson."

Constantine spread the food out on the table in the living area then picked up a cream cheese bagel and took a bite.

"Have some," he encouraged, sitting down.

"I'm not hungry," Alex told him, taking a seat. "I'm here to talk about James."

"Blond and beautiful?" Constantine smirked. "Imagine there's a lot to say."

"Damn it, Constantine, I don't want you scaring him off."

Constantine chewed bagel thoughtfully. "Like that, is it?"

Alex flushed. "I don't know. It's…it's all so… I don't know. But I _do_ know that I want the opportunity to find out and if you're coming on like some-"

"OK, OK," Constantine held his hands up. "You can't blame me for wanting to look out for you." He reached out and rubbed Alex's shoulder. "I don't want you to be hurt."

Alex sighed. "Please, Constantine. Just give him a chance."

Constantine smiled. "Sure thing, little brother. You sure you don't want some bagel? Got to say, two weeks in the back of beyond eating nothing recognisable gives you one hell of an appetite."

"No, I'm good." Alex stood up. "Thanks, Constantine."

Constantine watched him go and sipped his coffee. Nelson reappeared.

"You got everything you need, Mr Taylor?" Nelson asked solicitously.

"Send Tony in, will you, Nelson? I've got a little research I want doing."

* * *

It was Friday and although Larner's did open on a Saturday morning, it was the end of the working week for James.

"We'll rota you properly from Monday," Dick said. "Thought we'd give you a gentle run in this week."

Rusty sat and watched Jennie talk to customers, smiling and exuding professionalism, discussing the pieces they'd brought in, managing expectations and offering advice.

"You want a go?" she asked after a few hours and James beamed.

"Please. But you'll stay with me, won't you? In case…well, in case."

Just the right hint of confidence and nervous insecurity. Enough for Jennie to like him and not so much that she thought he was arrogant. As parts went, James was positively likeable.

* * *

"How is he?" Reuben asked as he arrived in Danny's room mid-afternoon.

Rick flicked an annoyed little smile. What did Reuben expect exactly?

"Well, we had breakfast, we chewed the fat, stepped down to the games room and shot a few frames. Then we popped out and went bowling. He overdid it a bit and he's resting now."

Reuben looked as if he was going to say something and then thought better of it. He stared down at Danny's sleeping form and Rick thought how old he looked. Wrinkles and lines and no energy. Man was supposed to be some sort of Vegas big noise and here he was, practically burnt out.

"You can go if you like, Rick."

Rick's mouth set. That was exactly what _Reuben_ would like. Reuben didn't care for him and he wasn't that clever at hiding it.

"Oh, I'll stick around," he smiled thinly.

"Will you, though?" Reuben asked quietly and Rick frowned.

"Danny needs me," he said tersely.

Reuben was looking at him now. Looking at him hard.

"What about if Danny doesn't heal? What about if there are complications?"

Rick laughed. "Danny's gonna heal."

"What if he doesn't?" Reuben persisted, his eyes like gimlets. "What if he can't go back to the con? You sticking around then?"

For a moment, the impossible flashed before Rick's eyes. One of Danny's legs refusing to mend, unable to take his weight…Danny's arm needing operation after operation…something recently sewn up inside Danny rupturing all over again, leaving him weak and helpless…

He shrugged the thought away and laughed again and the laughter sounded a little forced, even to his own ears.

"Danny's gonna heal," he insisted.

Reuben sighed and let it go.

* * *

Dinner was with Alex in a little Chinese place, not too far away from Larner's. Crispy seaweed and sesame prawn toast, shredded chilli beef and chicken in black bean sauce and egg fried rice and Rusty hadn't even _thought,_ hadn't even _remembered_ until Alex said "If you don't like the peas…"

"I like the rice and the egg," he replied automatically as he picked them out and the memory washed over him.

Chinese takeout with Ed and Danny and Rick. The auction over and done with and tension still crackling in the air and Rick challenging, Danny deciding, Ed _alive_…

"You OK?" Alex asked, frowning.

"Fine." He drank some beer and James smiled and sent the conversation off into a winding spiral of diversion.

* * *

The date had stopped at dinner. Oh, Alex was open to it going on for longer: the excitement in Alex was palpable. But not tonight. He'd got the information he needed and he was meeting Rick in the morning and just…just not tonight.

"I'm really tired," James apologised. "Guess it happens when you start a new job. So much to take in, so many things to learn."

Alex looked disappointed but didn't press the point.

"Tomorrow afternoon," James suggested. "3 o'clock at the Guggenheim?"

"Sure," Alex smiled, perking up. "I'll meet you outside the main entrance."

Back at his hotel and Rusty headed for the bar. One whisky, two whisky, three whisky, four. Larner's and Davey and Tony and Constantine and Alex. Playing the part. Smiling at murderers.

"_It's not your mouth they're using…it's not your body they're running their hands over…it's not your hips they're gripping, it's not you they're groping…"_

"No!" He slammed his fist down on the bar.

"You OK, buddy?" the barman asked and Rusty gave an angry toss of his head that sent the barman away, shrugging his shoulders.

"No," Rusty repeated, his voice softer. He could do this. He had to be able to do this. He fished dollars out of his pocket and threw them down.

"Leave the bottle," he instructed and the barman picked up the greenbills on the counter and shrugged.

An hour later and the second bottle was empty and he still wasn't nearly drunk enough.

"'Nother bottle."

The barman frowned. "Don't you think you've had-"

"No!" Rusty snarled. "Not by a long shot."

The bottle came up to his room with him. At some point, he finished it. At some point, he passed out.

* * *

Rusty woke face down on the bed. His head was refusing to accept that it was attached to his body. Or maybe it was his body that was rejecting the notion that it had anything to do with his head.

The pounding was rich in his temples. His throat was raw and sore. His mouth was desert-dry. With an effort, Rusty flopped over on to his back. The world did not seem any more palatable that way up. He swallowed and raised his arm and forced his eyes to focus on his watch.

"Shit," he said with feeling.

* * *

Leaving Danny's bedside had been that little bit tougher after Reuben's words. Last thing Rick wanted to do was have Reuben think he was running out on Danny. He wouldn't. Wouldn't ever. He'd stuck by him for two and a half years of prison, hadn't he? Wasn't everyone who would have done that.

Looked after Teresa, too. In every way. Danny had thanked him a million times for that. That was true friendship.

Teresa. Rick felt the horror rising up in him again as he thought about the blood and the violence and the death. Fuck. Rick swallowed. Well, that was why he was here in New York waiting to see what Captain Flash had to say.

* * *

Rick was waiting in the little diner near Maria's, a cup of coffee in front of him.

"You're late," Rick pointed out as Rusty slid into the seat opposite.

Rusty smiled a smile that said _"I knew that already"._

Rick's nose wrinkled and Rusty knew the bottle of mouthwash hadn't touched the smell. Fuck, the alcohol was oozing out of his pores.

"Rough night?"

"Slept like a baby. Shall we get on with this?"

"Be my guest."

"Two shipments coming in this week."

Rusty gave details and Rick furiously scribbled them down and then frowned.

"Monday? Two days away? It's too soon-"

"Rick-"

"I need to set this up. I need to get organised. I need-"

"Rick!" Rusty hissed and Rick broke off and stared at him. "This is about working out the system. About understanding the how. When we've got that, we can figure out how to use the information. Observation role only."

The panic died away in Rick's eyes and he nodded slowly. "OK. I can do that."

He settled back in his seat and studied Rusty's face.

"Have to hand it to you, Rusty. Two days in and you're fucking. That's fast work."

Something in Rusty's face must have given him away or else Rick was more perceptive than he gave him credit for.

"_Oh…"_ Rick's eyes widened. "Didn't even take that long, did it?" He picked up his coffee cup and looked away, laughing.

Rusty felt his fingers curl into his palms under the table. He stayed silent, not trusting himself to speak. Rick drained the cup and stood up.

"Next week. Same time, same place," Rick said.

Rusty nodded.

"How's…"

The question was halfway out before he could stop it. He couldn't look up at Rick and he couldn't finish the sentence. He felt Rick waiting.

Rusty settled for "How are things?"

Rick planted his hands on the table and leaned in close. "Oh, things are just swell. My partner's out of action and I get to work with a fucking whore instead." Rick sniffed. "Fucking whore who drinks like a fish. What's that about, golden boy? Trying to forget how easy your legs fall open? Does it help when you look in the mirror in the morning?"

Rusty's head shot up and Rick took one look at his face and stepped back.

"Yeah…well, I'll see you next week," Rick said and left.

Slowly, Rusty unclenched his fingers and looked down at the marks on his palms. Rick was… Nothing changed there.

"You want anything?" The waitress was efficient and in a hurry.

Rusty took a deep breath. "Black coffee. Lots of it."

* * *

Outside the diner, it had started to rain lightly. Rick pulled his collar up around his neck and thought about the encounter with Mr Hotshot. God, he wished that Danny was up and about. Sitting opposite that…that…

Rick's mouth tightened. There just weren't words and if it weren't about the bigger picture here, there was no way on God's green planet that he would be in the same room as the fucking faggot.

The bigger picture. He had to keep that in mind. Taking down that empire bit by bit. Rick shook his head and gritted his teeth. He had the hardest part in all this. The legwork, the observation, the tailing… Wasn't like _he_ got to lie down on the job doing what came naturally.

* * *

"Docs are doing the rounds," Reuben said as Carter walked into the little ante-room at the hospital. "You heard from him?"

Carter shook his head tiredly at Reuben. Rusty had gone AWOL and all there was was radio silence.

"He's not picking up my calls. I'm trying not to worry. Not like he's seventeen."

"You think…what _do_ you think?"

A hundred different scenarios had been running through Carter's head. He still remembered an empty bed at Fat Joe's and the panic and the worry. Taking matters into his own hands was what Rusty was about.

"Trying not to think either," he told Reuben.

Reuben nodded and sighed. "You speak to Scott?"

"Yeah. He's hoping to make it back here in a couple of weeks' time."

"Good. Danny'll be pleased to see him again."

Carter hesitated. "Spoke to Bobby too."

Reuben's face sharpened. "And?"

"Authorities aren't looking."

Reuben nodded impatiently. "But…?"

"Bobby could," Carter said simply.

* * *

The Guggenheim had been easy enough. Art produced its own conversation. And afterwards, they'd walked in the Park and kicked up the fall leaves and smiled at each other happily. Dinner was Italian and intimate and delicious. Going back to Alex's was somehow unavoidable. Sex was…sex was sex. Just sex.

James lay on the bed and stared up at Alex lying next to him, propped up on one elbow.

"Penny for them?" James said lightly, smiling as Alex's fingers reached out and caressed his cheek.

"Stay with me," Alex murmured.

Rusty bit back on the wince.

"What?" he stalled.

"It's Sunday tomorrow. Stay with me. I…I'd really like to wake up with you."

He couldn't think of a damn reason why not.

"Sure," James smiled. "That would be wonderful."

_

* * *

____Sex. Hard and fast and rough and it _hurt___. Not just the way it always did. He was being torn up inside and hands were holding him face down, keeping him in place and he bit the inside of his mouth and tried to ride out the thrusts. Whoever this was, it was going to last as long as they did._

_With slow, dawning horror, he realised there was an audience. With unwilling eyes, he turned his head sideways. He couldn't make out the faces and that was surely a blessing. _

_This wasn't him. That, above everything, was what he wanted to say, to scream out loud to those watching. He didn't _enjoy_ this. This was necessary. This was… This…_

_A small noise escaped him and whoever was fucking him let out a little happy sound. This wasn't right. This wasn't happening. This…_

_Saul wouldn't understand it. Danny didn't understand it. Eduardo…Ed…Ed…_

With a start, he woke and arms were round him, holding him. Reassuring words were being murmured into his hair.

Rusty choked and swallowed all at the same time and the arms tightened.

"It's OK, it's OK," the voice whispered. "You're safe. I've got you."

The last of the nightmare shuddered through him and he clutched at the comfort of the arms, hating himself as he did so.

"I've got you," the voice said again and this time he recognised its owner.

James exhaled slowly. "Thanks," he said.

"Of course," Alex smiled and pressed his lips to James's shoulder.

They lay down again and James settled in to the lovers' embrace, allowing Alex to hold him, legs lightly intertwined.

"Just a nightmare, James." Alex kissed his shoulder again. "It's all over."

It so wasn't.


	45. Routine

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: just borrowing the boys.

Chapter Forty-five: Routine

_

* * *

_

Sunday…

Morning arrived and Alex came to, James's soft breath against his chest. He stayed like that for a long moment, listening to his own heartbeat and then gently extricated himself from the embrace. James stirred slightly and then settled back on to the bed, lying on his back, the sheet barely covering his lower body, his right arm flung backwards.

Alex sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at the exposed and the vulnerable offered up; at the golden hair, gently mussed; at the long eyelashes, the cheekbones, at that jawline that he just burned to press tiny kisses along; the lips slightly apart, the mouth that…Alex felt the heat rising in him at the very thought. His eyes ran over the shoulders and the arms and the muscle definition and the little dips around the collarbone that he loved to nuzzle his tongue into; the torso and the ribs and the flat stomach…

He swallowed. It hadn't been a week yet since James had come back and yet it seemed so much longer. He couldn't get enough of James's company. James was like some sort of euphoric drug that filled up his senses and he only hoped that James felt the chemistry the way he did. The connection. The vibe.

As for the sex…the sex was amazing. The sex was _mind_-blowing.

Chocolate had become part of the foreplay. James had liked the truffles. Alex promised himself that he was going to make sure the little box of four chocolates would always be waiting for James. A little signature surprise.

Talking of surprises… Alex ran a finger over his bottom lip and then reached out and brushed the sheet away.

* * *

Sleep fogged his brain. Dulled his reactions. With a frown and a shift of his hips, he came blinking back into consciousness and tensed. A hand was curved underneath him. His inner thigh was being systematically and upwardly kissed. The hand and the mouth belonged to Alex and Alex's other hand…

"No!" he exclaimed forcefully and shuffled up and back and away and startled, Alex let go at once.

"No," James said with an apologetic smile.

"I just wanted to..." Alex frowned and there was hurt there. "I mean…I wanted to wake you up nicely…"

James smiled and reached out for Alex's hands and kissed his fingers. "I know a wonderful way to wake up. Let's go grab a shower."

* * *

It was all well and good for Reuben, who ran a casino, for fuck's sake, and for Carter, who, like Scott, didn't look like he went short of the good things in life. Rick didn't have those kind of ready funds. And Rusty was sending him running off to New York and Boston and probably London, Paris and Munich. That didn't come cheap.

He toyed briefly with the idea of tapping up Reuben for some cash. No details, of course, but maybe some hints about working in Danny's best interests… Regretfully, he decided that there might be just too many questions.

Another alternative was to rustle up some ready money himself. He was more than capable of running a few scams. But actually, there was an even easier answer because no one else seemed in a rush to remember it.

Doug Quentin's money.

* * *

The neighbourhood never changed that much. Houses that always looked like they could do with a lick of paint and a freshen up. Funny, but when you actually lived there, you just didn't see the shabby.

Rick parked up the hire car and walked slowly up the garden path, stepping over the abandoned bikes and the upturned doll's pram. He knocked on the door and waited.

Inside there were feet thundering upstairs, downstairs, there was deep bellowing and there was sharp-pitched shouting. The door was opened and the middle-aged woman with the sagging figure and the tired eyes didn't look in the least bit surprised to see him.

"Hi," he said and stepped into the hallway.

A man's voice called out, "Who is it, Alice?"

"It's Rick. Guess he's come visiting." She jerked her head in the direction of the living room. "Go on through. I'll get you a beer."

Rick found Bud stretched out on the couch, a few empty cans strewn around his feet.

"Bud," Rick acknowledged.

"Rick." Bud's eyes didn't leave the TV screen but he gestured to an empty chair. "You OK?"

"Yeah."

He pulled an empty chip packet out of the way and sat down. God, how his life had moved on.

Alice appeared and wordlessly handed each of them a beer before she was pushed aside as two children hurtled into the room.

"Mom, Sasha said-"

"Troy said-"

"Liar!"

"Shut up!" Alice snapped. "Your Uncle Rick's here."

"You staying over?" Bud asked.

"Just tonight," Rick answered, adding as if an afterthought, "If that's OK with Alice."

"Sure, it's OK!" Bud snorted. "You're her brother, ain't you?"

* * *

"So what's new?" Rick asked as he watched the ballgame and dug into the bowl of ribs that Alice had brought through.

"Nothing," Bud said with emphasis. "No one wants to hire. This town's as dead as it's always been. Wasn't for Alice's little job at the Walmart and the benefits for the kids…well, we'd be in trouble."

Rick made a sympathetic noise.

"Still." Bud's eyes flicked over to Rick and then back to the screen. "You look like you're doing alright. Still got that security job?"

"Yeah," Rick waved an expansive hand. "Keeps me busy. Pays a steady wage."

"Still travelling?" Bud sounded envious.

"Here and there," Rick said breezily. "Travelling's not all it's cracked up to be. Living out of a suitcase. Bit of a rolling stone. Be nice sometimes to put down some roots."

Not really what he wanted out of life but he felt certain it was what Bud wanted to hear.

"I'll bring you a blanket and some pillows," Alice volunteered.

"That'll be great, Alice. My stuff still upstairs?"

"Yeah…well…we moved a couple of boxes out to the lean-to."

"What boxes?" Sharply.

"Couple of boxes of clothes and stuff. Caught Troy and Sasha playing with them and I took them away." Alice frowned at him. "What's the matter?"

"Sounds like the man needs his stuff, Alice," Bud said. "You'd better fetch it in."

* * *

The badge was at the bottom of one of the boxes and Rick smiled as he tucked it into his jacket pocket. He had a plan for tomorrow and the badge was going to help no end.

_

* * *

_

Monday…

The morning and Rick was up early. Alice came down the stairs as he was about to walk out the door.

"Didn't want to disturb you," he said and she nodded. He hesitated for a moment and then dug out a roll of banknotes and peeled off a couple of hundreds.

"Here," he said gruffly, offering the money.

Alice's fingers closed round it.

"Be seeing you," Rick said, kissing her cheek.

* * *

Rick arrived at JFK and checked the arrivals board. The flight from Amsterdam was on time and that gave him three hours. First things first. He dialled the airline head office.

"Hi, there. Wonder if you can help me. I've had the most excellent experience with your airline and I'd like to write a letter in to your Director of Customer Service. Can I have his name…?"

Down in the concourse and Rick spent money on a photoframe and spent flirt time on a pretty shop assistant.

"Shall I wrap it for you, sir?" the woman asked.

"Nah…" he smiled a winning smile and she smiled back.

Oh, he'd still got it.

Outside the shop, Rick dismantled the frame, removed the photo that came with it then headed for the airline desks. He walked casually up and down till he found the member of staff he wanted. Young, smiling, bright-eyed, eager. Yeah. She was the one.

"Hello, Christine," he leaned forward across the desk and flashed the badge. "Can we talk somewhere?"

* * *

Christine was a graduate trainee, earnest and sincere and horrified to think that a passenger on one of her airline's flights might be involved in anything illegal.

"I'm just so shocked, Mr Caldwell."

Rick nodded sympathetically. "I said to Ken Faulkner at HQ that the Bureau would handle this with discretion. I'm not looking to make any scenes that would embarrass the airline or damage its rep. I just need to identify the man and then we will make the arrest outside and away from the airport."

Christine nodded, her eyes wide. "What do you need me to do?"

* * *

He waited for Christine at the arrival gate.

"I checked," she said breathlessly. "It's not that man."

"You're sure?"

"Oh, yes." Christine scanned the crowd of passengers. "Mr Newley is that man with the yellow rucksack."

Rick looked at the tanned skin, the straw blond hair and the square jaw and committed the face to memory.

"Thanks," Rick smiled. "I guess it was a false alarm. Thanks for assisting the Bureau."

Trailing the yellow rucksack was easy enough. A hundred spot to the cab controller and he got Surfer Dude's destination, a café in the Village. After that, it was all about buying a coffee and a Danish and watching and waiting.

_

* * *

_

Tuesday…

The inner debate had raged long and hard. Carter knew where Reuben stood and Scott had been equally vehement.

"_You don't know what I think by now, Carter…"_

"_It's not that. I just…"_

_There was a silence._

"_He'll understand."_

"_Will Danny?"_

_There was a longer silence and then a sigh. _

"_Exactly."_

"_Well, we're not-"_

"_-no, we're not-"_

"_-it's just insurance-"_

"_-they don't even have to find out."_

"_No."_

_Pause._

"_Still feels-"_

"_-yeah."_

If he did this and Rusty found out…Carter could see those blue eyes filled with anger and betrayal.

But Rusty had disappeared.

Carter made the call.

"Bobby?"

* * *

Unless it was someone with a very long memory holding a very big grudge – and he'd never dismiss that as a possibility - Bobby had to think that the attack on Danny was about recent activities.

_During the early days of Danny's recovery, he'd sat with Scott, Carter and Reuben and a bottle of whisky at the hotel. Reuben had shared what had happened with the job in Belize. Bobby had seen Scott's wince and the pain in Reuben's face as he talked about the jail sentence. _

"_That over?" Scott had asked._

_"Yeah," Reuben had nodded decisively. "Not in Murray's nature to hound once he thinks he's done enough."_

Danny had been out of jail for a few months and he hadn't done much of note in that time. All of which kind of left the Quentin job. Alisha and Anton. Maybe they had friends.

Bobby read the case notes again. Two places to start asking questions.

"Agent Caldwell?" David Morgan, a keen little Clarice Starling in the making, stood in front of his desk. "The Director wants to see us about a new case."

Bobby sighed and didn't show it. Why did the day job have to get in the way?

_

* * *

_

Wednesday…

The doctors were pleased with him. To be completely accurate, they were pleased with themselves. Everything was coming along wonderfully. Bruises were fading down. There would be scarring, of course, but as one white coat said to the other, that was to be expected in cases like these. Danny wondered with bitterness how many cases like these they'd actually seen.

Danny hated the way they talked about him as if he wasn't there. As if he wasn't lying in bed, inches away from them. And yes, he couldn't respond but still. He wasn't an exhibit in a laboratory, to be poked and prodded, to have men with clipboards stand around him, scribble notes and talk in medspeak.

Boredom was making him unfair. He sighed to himself and shifted in an attempt to get comfortable. This was a marathon not a sprint.

Days were flowing into days and a pattern of sorts was being established. Carter looked in from time to time but every day brought Reuben or Rick or both of them as visitors. They broke up the dreariness of the hours and Danny was grateful for their company.

Reuben talked about Vegas – a hundred and one anecdotes of the city and Danny lived every one as Reuben spoke. Could hear the buzz and the thrill. The city where he'd grown up and the casino names meant pictures of neon lights and noise fizzing through his brain.

Rick was content to watch the TV with him. Talk about the stories in the papers or on the news, brief little comments that Rick found funny or interesting. Rick was all about being with him. And that was a comfort in itself. Even if…well…take today…

"Here's a good one, Danny," Rick chuckled, leafing through a magazine. "What do you call a group of homosexuals? A packet of fags." He sat and laughed to himself. "Have to share that one with golden boy."

_Rusty? Had Rick seen him? Did Rick know where he was? _Danny half-sat up. Rick must have caught the movement and surely there could be no doubt about the question.

"_When_ I see him again, I mean," Rick added. "_If _I see him again."

Danny slid down again to the bed. If. _(If?) _It had been, what, five days? A week? A week since he'd seen Rusty. Where the hell was he? Rusty had said…Rusty had _promised…_ He was going to wait. Rusty wasn't going to do anything without him. Rusty was going to wait and they were going to tackle Larner's together. A flame of anger licked through him. Where the hell was Rusty?

_

* * *

_

Thursday…

The shield and Bobby's name and that of the head honcho at the airline cut no mustard in Boston.

"I'm going to have to make a call, sir," the tart-faced woman said.

"Of course, Carol," Rick smiled, his eyes dropping down to the badge she wore which declared her happy to help. Liar.

He slipped away while Carol was checking his story out.

More than one way to skin a cat.

The passengers streamed through arrivals and Rick saw the man before he saw him. Jeans, spectacles, open-necked white shirt, brown hair, unshaven. Yellow rucksack. Then the man spotted him and the sign he was holding and stopped and hesitated then crossed to him.

"You waiting for me?" the man asked in a low voice. "Has there been a change of plan?"

Rick concentrated on making his face look vacant and stupid. "You Kevin Sylvester? From London?"

"No," the man shook his head. "No, that's not me."

"You sure?" Rick asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," came the snap of a reply and the man strode away.

Rick gave it a minute and then tailed him. All the way to a bar at the airport. Huh. He bought a coffee at the Starbucks opposite and took up observation duties once again.

_

* * *

_

Friday…

The Monday to Friday routine was establishing itself in Rusty's head. Breakfast and becoming James; walk to Larner's; shadow Jennie and ease his way into the job; escape to lunch outside; meet Alex for dinner in the evening; back to Alex's to be greeted by a box of four truffles on the pillow; sex with gentle, tender Alex, all clever fingers and warm mouths and skin on skin; casual inspection of the black book when he was able; slipping away in the early hours with what looked like a smile for whoever was on elevator duty; back to the hotel, shower, scrub, sleep.

Simple. Straightforward. And thank God - after the play and the tears, after the nightmare - no more loss of control. James was all that Alex was seeing; all that Alex was supposed to see: bright and sexy and softly spoken James.

Rusty realised they were in the first flush of dating as far as Alex was concerned. Alex was shining with happiness, wearing it like a coat, hungry for James's company, delighting in being with him.

They talked about a hundred different things. The topics were general and safe: upper layers of conversation that were about people getting to know each other, people feeling each other out. Conventionally, that kind of thing came before sex but there was no law that said it couldn't happen in tandem.

Monday and Thursday, Rusty tried hard not to think about Rick in action at the other end of this operation. Tried not to think about how _he_ would do things if it had been him at the airports. From what he'd seen of him, Rick could be unimaginatively competent but careless. Rusty cursed the fact that he couldn't be in two places at once.

Monday and Thursday, he kept a close eye on his phone and half-expected it to ring. For Rick to be at the other end with a problem or an issue or something that had gone wrong that hadn't been his fault. The phone didn't ring. And when he thought about it a second time, he realised that he was the last person Rick would call. Rick wasn't ever going to show weakness in front of him if he could help it.

Rusty gritted his teeth. Damn it. _(As long as Rick didn't call Danny)._

Friday evening and he was sitting in the restaurant, waiting for Alex to come back to the table and thinking about the meeting tomorrow with Rick. What had Rick found out? How could they use the information? He'd got new details of dates and deliveries to pass on to Rick and-

"Hey…"

Alex was back. James looked up at him under his lashes.

"Hey."

The face opposite him was serious and James frowned.

"What is it?"

Alex stirred his coffee and hesitated then seemed to pluck up courage.

"Who's Ed?" he asked bluntly.

Rusty stared at him. _"What?"_

"Who's Ed?" Alex said again.

The nightmare. It had to be. And this was why he should _never_ stay over. Rusty bought time, sipping his own coffee and letting the silence grow. As a tactic, it worked like a charm.

"Sorry." Alex shuffled in his seat and the words tumbled out of him. "Just that when you stayed over- when you were asleep- you said his name. More than once. You sounded like you were hurting."

Rusty's fingers tightened on the coffee cup.

"Sorry," Alex said again and his eyes dropped down to the table. "I didn't mean…God, exes…it's all too soon…sorry."

Rusty took a breath and James reached over and took Alex's hand.

"No, _I'm_ sorry." He squeezed Alex's fingers. "Ed was someone I cared a great deal for."

"Were you…?"

Alex didn't look like he could finish the question and for that, Rusty was eternally grateful.

"No." James flashed a brief smile. "No, we weren't."

"_Oh…"_

He watched Alex draw his own conclusions and smiled bravely at him, blinking heavily.

"Oh," Alex said again and he clasped James's hand between both of his and was making a hundred unspoken promises about understanding and being there for him.

Rusty bit his lip and carried on smiling.

_

* * *

_

Saturday…

"You been drinking again?" Rick asked, sliding into the seat opposite him.

Rusty looked up from his hot chocolate and grinned; the grin didn't reach his eyes. "Might start." He cut to the chase. "So, tell me."

Rick shrugged. "S'tricky."

"_Tell_ me."

He listened to Rick and the airports and the ruses and the men and the rucksacks and the handovers.

"They look like they knew each other?"

"No." Rick shook his head emphatically. "I was watching. They were looking for the rucksacks. That must be all the introduction they need."

Rusty nodded slowly. Couriers would come from all over the world and the pick-up could be anyone from Larner's. Oh, there'd be regulars but this wasn't about meeting up with old friends. This was all about the jewels and the drugs and payment. Had to be cash on delivery. And a yellow rucksack was distinctive enough and inconspicuous enough all at the same time.

"They were carrying elsewhere until they'd landed," Rick remarked.

Rusty gave an irritated nod. Of course.

"Condoms up their…" Rick broke off and smiled. "Well. You'd know all about that, right?"

Rusty ignored him. "We need to find out how they set up the meetings."

"That'll be your side of things," Rick suggested.

Yes, it would. He'd need to find out the who and the how.

"Must smart a bit," Rick said and Rusty frowned at the non-sequitur.

"Mean I swallowed a plum stone once. Getting that bastard out of me…" Rick pulled a face. "Fucking hurt. But I guess if things are being shoved up there regularly…well…" Rick's eyes were bright and unblinking and Rusty held his gaze, his mouth tight. "It's got to get easier every single time, right?"

He wouldn't give Rick the satisfaction.

"That's right," he agreed with a neutral expression, his face telling Rick he hadn't heard the innuendo.

Rick settled back in his chair with a smirk that said he wasn't fooled in the slightest.


	46. Instinct and Action

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: just checking them out of the library. From the "Crime" section, of course.

Chapter Forty-six: Instinct and Action

* * *

Elaine plumped the pillows up behind Danny and handed him the plastic cup with the sealed lid and the straw.

"Now, don't look at me like that. _I _didn't cook it."

Danny's eyes crinkled. He held the cup and with good grace, let Elaine help him steer the straw into his mouth. Warm, thin, chickeny-flavoured consommé trickled down the back of his throat. Wonderful. Danny tried his best not to think about chewing _actual _roast chicken. With roast potatoes. And peas and carrots and gravy. Damn it. He had to stop torturing himself with food fantasies.

"We've got something…" Elaine squinted at the second cup. "Something pink for afters. I'm guessing strawberry. You want to take a bet on raspberry?"

Danny waggled an eyebrow in acquiescence. They hadn't yet established what the stakes were but the bets happened regularly. He thought he was ahead but he wasn't sure either of them had actually been keeping score.

"You're not missing much weather-wise for a Sunday," Elaine told him, pulling the curtains back. "It's been raining on and off all day."

The outside world. Danny felt the ache of impatience within him and it had nothing to do with getting a firsthand weather report. Somewhere out there, Teresa's killers were walking free. Somewhere. Some place, some time, he was going to find them. _They_ were going to find them. The promise was absolute.

* * *

Rusty still wasn't taking his calls. Didn't mean Carter was going to stop trying. He sat with the phone pressed to his ear and listened to it ringing out and clicking over so that he could leave a message. He wasn't going to leave a message.

Carter ended the call and glared at the phone. Damn Rusty. No knowing what Rusty was up to, whether he was safe, what company he was keeping. Somewhere there was a little lesson to be learned about communication. Didn't Rusty even get that people worried about him?

He still felt guilty about involving Bobby but with what had happened… Hell, even if Rusty found out and never talked to him again, it would be worth it. He just needed to know Rusty was safe.

* * *

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Rusty glanced at the missed call. Carter again. Damn the man but he was persistent. Well, there was no way he was speaking to Carter. Not yet and not for a long while. What he was doing was right and necessary and justified and…and Carter would want to interfere; Carter would want to take control; Carter would want to do _something_. And Rusty wasn't about to let that happen. And the only trouble with ignoring Carter was-

The thought rolled away from him as Alex came back from the shower, towelling off his hair, another towel wrapped round his waist. Rusty's phone melted out of his hand and away into his jacket.

"You're dressed."

There was a flavour of surprisedisappointment in there. Maybe Alex had been planning a little surprise of his own. James smiled the lazy smile that Alex liked.

"Thought we could go and grab some brunch. Have a stroll through the Park."

Easy like Sunday morning and lazing on a Sunday afternoon. Together. Unsurprisingly, approval flooded Alex's face. Rusty didn't let a trace of what was underneath cross James's face.

* * *

Thanks to both of Bobby's careers and, before Linus had come along, _Molly's _working week, Sundays at the Caldwell residence didn't follow any particular pattern. But just occasionally, a family Sunday would happen and Molly was kind of hoping that this would be one of those days.

Bobby had got in late. Early. Whatever. He'd not been there when she'd gone to sleep but when she'd woken, it was to the comforting warmth of her husband beside her. She'd slipped out of bed quietly so as not to disturb him and headed out to the landing.

Linus's door was partway open and Molly carefully peered round it. Linus was lying on his front, arm hanging out of the bed, gently snoring. Molly smiled fondly at the mix of posters on the wall. The first sign of teenage independence and she wondered when the mainstream would give way to the obscure. When Linus would ask for a CD and she would look at the cover and not know which was the title and which was the group.

"You're getting old, Molly my girl," she murmured to herself. She left Linus still sound asleep and went to make coffee.

* * *

Bobby surfaced about eleven thirty and by that time, roast chicken was firmly underway in the kitchen.

"Coffee, tea or me?" Molly smiled at him, wrapping her arms round him.

"Can I go for two out of three?" Bobby smiled back and kissed her. "Where's Linus?"

"Taking out the trash. I only had to ask him four times. Think that's a new record."

"How is he?"

"Hmm…let's see…selectively deaf, argumentative, very sure he's right...I'd have to say teenager. Unless he's skipped all that and gone straight to man."

She reached up and stroked his face. "Tell me you're going to be here for the rest of the day."

Bobby's eyes clouded and Molly sighed.

"We got you till after lunch at least?" she said hopefully.

Bobby nodded and sniffed the air appreciatively a couple of times. "I'm guessing that's why you got that roast in early."

"Well, that's something, I guess." Molly pulled away and switched the kettle on. "And can I ask whether you're playing Robin Hood or Eliot Ness?"

"Bit of both. You know I've been helping Carter?"

The urgent call that had sent Bobby running out of the door. The case where there had been death and violence and a very immediate need to act. She remembered.

"Little bit of follow-up investigation. Low profile," he said quickly as she frowned, "but it means travel and I need to fit it in around a new case. That means I've got to make the most of my downtime." Bobby sighed. "I'm-"

She pushed a finger to his lips and her eyes told him it was alright. If it mattered to Bobby, then it mattered. End of.

"God, I love you," he muttered.

Molly's lips twitched.

"Well, that's incredibly fortunate, then." She stepped back. "How long _have_ we got you for?"

Bobby considered. "Coffee…spend some time with Linus…eat lunch…"

He tailed off and Molly smiled.

"Throw in another cup of coffee after lunch and that's loads of time."

* * *

Brunch. A walk in the Park. A coffee in a little café accompanied by a slice of cheesecake. And all the time, the niggling little thought about Carter refused to go away.

"Penny for them," Alex murmured and James shook his head smiling.

"Just thinking how nice this is. Being with you."

Alex flushed and James bit into the cheesecake and let the creamy richness dissolve on his tongue. Rusty closed his eyes, momentarily riding out the bliss. Alex's hand brushed over Rusty's and James smiled. There was a wolf-whistle from the other side of the café and they both turned their heads.

Four guys in a booth. Rusty studied them through his eyelashes. Young and would-be rough-tough. His attention switched back to Alex whose head had dropped down and whose hands were clasped around his coffee cup.

"Hey," Rusty said softly. "It's OK. Don't let those jerks get to you."

Alex flashed him a smile. "Sorry. Not the first time."

Rusty looked at him thoughtfully. "We can go. If you want to. You shouldn't be anywhere where you're uncomfortable."

"No," Alex said firmly. "Constantine's always telling me I need to toughen up. Let's ignore them."

James smiled. "Let's."

They finished up and walked out the door, ignoring the laughter and the kisses blown after them as they went.

* * *

The October wind had a chill to it as James and Alex wandered through the streets, Rusty carefully steering them clear of anywhere close to Maria's. Alex grew quieter and then stopped and pulled Rusty into a deserted side-street.

"James? There's something I need to say," Alex began.

Every one of Rusty's senses went on high alert. Just the very tone of Alex's voice and he knew this was serious. All he could think was that he'd given himself away somehow and Alex wanted to mention it to him first rather than Constantine. Already, his mind was on exit routes: fallback and consolidation. It was either that or Alex was going to say… No. It had only been about ten days, for God's sake.

James smiled enquiringly, his eyebrow raised.

"I just-" Alex broke off and his eyes widened.

Too late, Rusty felt the presence behind him. He started to turn round but a heavy hand shoved him in between his shoulderblades and he staggered forward, stumbling against Alex whose arms automatically shot out to catch him.

"Look who we found!"

A chorus of wolf-whistles and as Rusty righted himself and span round, he already knew who was going to be standing there. The four boys from the café. Late teens, early twenties and doing their best to look hard. Two of them pulled him back off Alex, their hands fastening on to his arms and with difficulty, Rusty remembered he was James. James who would be startled and passive.

"Don't hurt him!" Alex exclaimed in alarm and there were sniggers and grins.

One of the other boys, full of swagger, the leader of the pack, gave Alex's cheek a couple of little slaps. "You going to stop us, Romeo?"

"You want money? I've got money," Alex gabbled. He fished out his wallet. "Here. Take it. Please just leave us alone."

More laughter. And Rusty could tell that this wasn't just about cash. The boys wanted a little fun first. Then Leader of the Pack produced a switchblade and held it in front of Alex's face, drawing a figure of eight in the air.

"You pair of pussy-faggots should think twice about coming out in public. You might bump into some _real_ men."

Rusty looked at Alex, genuinely frightened and enough of this passive shit.

His right foot stamped down hard on the instep of the guy on the right and he followed it up with a well-timed blind finger-jab upwards.

"My eye!" the boy squealed and pulled away, clutching his face.

Rusty's left elbow dug hard into the ribs on the opposite side of him and as the boy doubled over, he turned and grabbed him by the arms, bringing his knee up sharply to connect with the boy's head. There was a loud crack and an accompanying howl as the boy collapsed on the ground.

"What the…"

The other two boys were slow to react. One hung back, flattening against the wall of the sidestreet, shocked into inaction. Leader of the Pack, though, recovered and charged forward, roaring and swinging the knife.

Rusty blocked the knife-arm easily. The kid was an amateur, no idea of how to handle himself in a knife fight. The switchblade was shaken loose and dropped at Alex's feet. Leader of the Pack grabbed Rusty's upper arms, his face full of livid snarl. Rusty grinned and allowed just a hint of insanity to creep into his eyes. Then he headbutted the boy and Leader dropped like a stone. Rusty pocketed the switchblade and pulled Alex towards him.

"Don't hurt me, man!" the last boy gasped. "Please!"

Rusty smiled, his eyes, ice.

"When your friends can stand upright again," he said clearly and carefully, wanting every word to be heard, "be sure to tell them that a pussy-faggot laid them out."

He walked away without a backward glance, Alex clutching his arm.

* * *

Adrenaline raced through him. He hadn't done anything like that in a long while. The hunt for Willoughby flashburned through him and he remembered little explosions of violence, occasions when the need for answers had driven him to hurt…

Rusty swallowed. The high was dying now. Nausea was taking its place. Four kids. Just a shade younger than Ed and he'd… He wiped his hand over his mouth. One more thing that he could never ever explain to Saul.

He pulled his hand away and stared stupidly down at the red.

"You're bleeding," Alex whispered. "Here."

A clean cotton handkerchief came out of nowhere and Rusty dabbed at his face, unsure where the blood was coming from. Alex hailed a cab and bundled them both into it.

"Larner's, the auction house. And please hurry. My friend's hurt."

"It's nothing," Rusty told him firmly. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Alex replied, equally firmly. "And I'm going to take care of you. Don't argue, James."

James. He was James. Soft-spoken, laid-back, easy-going James. James, who rolled over and took it in bed. James, who was gentle and placid.

Fuck.

* * *

Back at Larner's and as they stepped out of the elevator, Constantine was stood there in conversation with Tony. The way they both blinked at him made Rusty think that maybe he looked a hundred times worse than he felt.

"What happened?" Constantine demanded.

"Some guys jumped us," Alex supplied. "James is hurt."

"My suite," Constantine said decisively.

Alex opened his mouth to protest and Constantine cut straight across him. "It's closer."

* * *

Rusty sat in the high-backed chair once more, Alex pressing a cold compress to his forehead. He suffered Constantine to take hold of his head and tilt it gently from one side to the other. Constantine's fingers were strong and his touch was precise. Musician's fingers. The randomness of the thought made Rusty wonder if maybe he actually did have the concussion that Constantine was checking for. He stared into Constantine's eyes and thought that this was as up close and personal as he wanted to be.

"James was amazing," Alex said, not for the first time. The whole story had come tumbling out of him almost as soon as the door had shut on the three of them. "So…unflappable. He just took charge. He was just like Tony would have been."

Constantine's eyes flicked across to Alex and Rusty knew that was a warning. James shouldn't know about Tony's ability to hit and hurt _(and maim and kill)_. Alex fell silent and Constantine carried on his inspection. After a while, he let go of Rusty's face and straightened up.

"You've got a graze on your forehead and you've bitten your lip. Or someone else has. But neither needs stitches. I'm sure my brother will be able to look after you. Take tomorrow off. Get over this. Last thing we want is you frightening the customers."

James smiled feeble gratefulness and stood up to go, Alex at his side.

"James?"

He turned back to face Constantine.

"Thank you."

Rusty blinked and then James said, "You're very welcome."

* * *

There was no sex. Alex was all about tenderness and solicitude, cleaning up his face and administering gentle kisses.

"I should go," James said, sitting up on the bed and Alex shook his head.

"You are staying here tonight."

"But tomorrow's Monday-"

"You've got tomorrow off. You heard Constantine. You don't have to go into work. You stay here tonight."

And just like before, he couldn't think of a reason why James would argue.

"What happened back there…" He started to fashion a story in his head of how the moment had washed over him, of finding unexpected strength and of how he had been shaking inside even while he was dealing out punishment.

"Shh…" Alex said, pulling him gently into his arms and laying back on the bed. "You were wonderful, James. Now, please. Just rest."

The embrace was loving and full of warmth and softness.

It was nothing to do with sex.

Rusty felt like screaming.


	47. Message

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: didn't create any of the Ocean's characters. Just playing in the playground.

A/N: the author would like it noted that otherhawk is in favour of Rick surviving and Danny and Rusty remaining apart. Sigh. *shakes head*

Chapter Forty-seven: Message

* * *

Death. Darkness. Agony. TeresaEduardoRusty. He'd woken up screaming in his head. Loud and frightened, with tears running down his face. The noise coming out of his mouth was incoherent, inarticulate and terrifying in its own right: he didn't recognise his own voice.

Elaine had come running.

"Oh, Danny!" She wiped away the tears and brushed his hair away from his face. "Not again."

* * *

Consciousness seeped back into Rusty and he slowly propped himself up on one elbow and took in his surroundings. Alex's bed. Alex's room. And he was alone. There was a note on the pillow beside him.

"_Didn't want to wake you. You were sleeping so soundly. I've had to go out – I'll be back about 1pm. Wait for me. A."_

Rusty looked down at his watch. 11am near as damn it. He'd slept for an eternity and that really wasn't him. More than that, he hadn't woken up when Alex had and that scared him. He couldn't keep letting that happen: it was far too dangerous.

He swung himself off the edge of the bed and headed for the bathroom, stripping off and starting the shower. The mirror showed a swollen bottom lip and a mark on his forehead. Absolutely nothing in the scheme of things and absolutely nothing to do with why he was feeling so tense.

* * *

The Monday morning sun was bright and cold and the sky was clear blue. Autumn had truly arrived. Bobby pulled his coat a little more closely around himself and knocked.

He was expected. Felicity opened the door and smiled a welcome at Bobby.

"Hello, Felicity. Thank you for seeing me."

"Of course, of course. It's nice to see you again. Do come in."

He followed her into a pristine little sitting room with a couch and two armchairs. Canute was curled up on the back of one of the chairs like an antimacassar. He lifted his head and opened one eye as Bobby entered the room and then settled himself back down again.

Bobby sat down on the couch, a wary eye on Canute. He'd been on the wrong end of an angry ginger tom a couple of years ago and the lesson he'd taken from that encounter was _"Respect the Cat"._

Felicity brought in a tray with a neat little plate of homemade cookies and two mugs of coffee and sat down next to Bobby.

"My sister, Patience, has gone to see the local minister. The church is organising a bake sale as a fundraiser at the weekend and it needs her." Felicity smiled. "At least that's Patience's opinion and I'm certain it will become the minister's too."

She took a sip of coffee. "How's Danny?"

"He's on the mend," Bobby said, relaying what Carter had told him. "The doctors are happy with him. It's still going to be a while before he's out of plaster but he's getting stronger every day."

"Good," Felicity nodded, relief showing. "Good. He's such a lovely man. I'm going to miss having him as a neighbour."

Bobby raised an eyebrow and she went on:

"I've decided to sell up in Vermont. I couldn't bear to go back there again. I'm going to move in with Patience. She's will drive me crazy but I love her and I want to be here."

Not _there_. Not on her own. Not with the remembrance of things past.

"How are you doing, Felicity?" Bobby asked gently, drinking his coffee.

Pain flickered on to her face and off again.

"The nightmares have stopped. For the moment, anyway." Felicity was silent for a moment and then sighed. "That poor girl…and that young boy…and _Danny…_"

She shook her head before Bobby could say anything.

"I'm OK. I mean, I'm never going to forget – who would? Sitting in that cupboard and listening to…everything. And not able to do a damn thing… But I'm OK."

A watery, determined smile and that was all about survivor's guilt and not giving in to the pain and the horror. Bobby bit into a cookie and gave her a moment to recover.

"The cookies are delicious," he volunteered.

"Patience will be pleased to hear it," she said and her voice was stronger. "How can I help, Bobby?"

"I'm tying up a few loose ends with the case, Felicity. And I'm so sorry to bring it all up again-"

She waved a hand. "Like I said, it's not like it goes away."

"The men who did this-" He saw her face tighten and said quickly, "I know you didn't see anything but you said you were listening to everything. Can you remember anything at all about the way they spoke? Did they mention any names? Is there anything you can tell me that would help find them?"

Felicity was shaking her head before he'd finished asking.

"I can't. Really, I can't. I didn't hear anything that would be of help."

Bobby nodded sympathetically although inside he was sighing with frustration. Felicity's way of coping with the terrifying was complete denial. Well, he wouldn't push it. There were other avenues to explore and he wasn't about to drag Felicity into an interrogation room and turn a bright light in her face. Never his style. Still. There was another tactic that was worth a shot.

"Thanks for your time, Felicity, I really appreciate it." He drained the coffee and stood up to leave. "I've got to be going. Got to investigate a new case. Two characters called Anton and Alisha."

She didn't say a word but her eyes spoke volumes. Felicity recognised those names. Bobby pretended not to notice. He smiled his goodbyes and left.

* * *

Towel wrapped round his waist, Rusty walked back out of the bathroom and came to an abrupt halt. Constantine was stood in the room. Rusty was a past master at keeping surprise and shock off his face and he managed it this time.

Constantine smiled genially. "I was looking for Alex."

"He's out. Back at one."

"Ah..."

Constantine's gaze slid down his body and lingered curiously over the scars. Rusty prepared himself to tell the same lies he'd told Alex.

_"Auction at a country house in England with scaffolding up all around it. Got into an argument with some steel piping that collapsed and I lost. Wonderful thing, the UK National Health Service."_

But Constantine didn't ask. Rusty could see him just logging the information and then his eyes were moving slowly back up Rusty's body and there was something in there and he didn't know quite what. Something that reminded him of Tommy Reiss. And Constantine couldn't be thinking of him like _that_, could he? He was with Alex, for fuck's sake.

His heart was suddenly hammering in his chest.

_(Constantine was between him and the door...)_

Still, he remained where he was, waiting for Constantine to speak and Constantine was looking at him directly now.

_(Tension kept him alert and poised; he'd only need one chance to run...)_

Constantine's eyes showed deep amusement. And Rusty let out the breath he wasn't holding. He wasn't in danger. Not that kind of danger. Constantine was enjoying the off guard and the imbalance of power.

"Do you want me to give Alex a message?" James asked, picking up his shirt and easing it on.

"I'm going to take you both out to lunch at Carlucci's. My treat. I'll book a table for 1.30." Constantine opened the door. "Tell him, will you?"

* * *

"Carter? It's Bobby. I'm just leaving Felicity's."

"Any joy?"

"Not directly. But I think the Doug Quentin job certainly figures."

Silence the other end and Bobby could almost hear the thoughts running through Carter's head – the _who_ and the _where_ and the _how_ they were going to find out.

"FBI are calling," Bobby said regretfully, "but when I can, I'm going to pick up with Doug Quentin. Reuben's got the address, right?"

"Yeah. He's in with Danny at the moment. Try him after lunch. And, Bobby, _thank _you."

* * *

Rusty sat in Carlucci's, Alex beside him, Constantine opposite. The table was full of garlic bread and red wine and pasta dishes. Everything was delicious. None of it tasted good.

James raised his glass of Chianti and sipped it, politely listening to Constantine's stream of anecdotes about customers, about NYC, about travel, about South America… It had a familiar feeling to it, something Rusty was reluctant to chase and pin down.

"…and let me tell you, a fortnight without decent food and a phone signal in the middle of nowhere is no joke." Constantine took a forkful of lasagne. "Makes you appreciate the ability to summon pizza 24/7."

"James wouldn't be able to cope with that," Alex laughed. "He enjoys his food too much."

"That true?" Constantine's eyes were bright.

James twirled carbonara on to the end of his fork and smiled affectionately at Alex. "We've had some nice meals together."

Constantine topped up the wine glasses. "Well, I guess you can have another one when Alex gets back."

Rusty frowned and Constantine caught it.

"He didn't tell you we were going away?" Constantine tutted at his brother. "I thought you were-"

"I _told _you I hadn't," Alex glared at his brother and then turned back to face him. "I was going to," he said apologetically. "Just that yesterday…things…"

He tailed off and the words from the day before hung in the air.

"_James? There's something I need to say…"_

Yesterday, things had played out differently before Alex had gotten the chance to share. James looked suitably puzzled.

"Alex and I are heading off this evening," Constantine supplied helpfully. "Back on Saturday afternoon."

"Where are you going?" James asked Alex with just a hint of reproach in his voice.

Alex flushed and there was apology unlimited in his eyes.

"We've got a regional meeting. Larner's is part of a...a bigger group and every now and then-"

"Every now and then, we have a meeting that's out of town. And this is one of those times," Constantine finished with a smile.

"Oh." James continued to look faintly hurt.

"It's in Florida," Constantine supplied. "Hope the weather holds. Might catch some rays."

"It's only five days," Alex said quickly. "Four, really. I'll be back in no time."

"Sure." James smiled, brave and understanding. "It's just…"

"Yeah," Alex said softly. "Me too."

* * *

Constantine had headed back to Larner's: Alex had taken James to the cinema: a rerun of _"Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?" _although it was less about the movie and more about the darkness and the being together. Rusty had sat and let Alex hold James's hand and watched Joan Crawford, trapped and terrorised.

"Flight's at seven," Alex murmured in his ear. "I can call you when I've landed."

"Please," James whispered back. "I'm going to miss you so much."

And now, Rusty sat back on his hotel room bed and thought about the implications of Alex being away. No crawling into bed. No playing the part. No sex. And no access to that little black book.

"Shit," Rusty said to no one in particular.

There was a definite inner circle and he was firmly on the outside.

* * *

"You're quiet," Constantine suggested.

Alex glanced at Tony sitting on the other side of the aisle and out of earshot.

"I'm missing him already," he said with a half-smile.

Constantine nodded thoughtfully. "He looked like he was missing you before you left."

"Did he?" Alex brightened.

"Yeah…" Constantine smiled. "I rather think he did."

* * *

Somewhere along the way, Danny had slipped into a light doze. Opening his eyes, he could see by the light, low in the sky, that it was late afternoon/early evening. Another day nearly over.

The door opened and Danny's head snapped round (and he wasn't looking for anyone in particular, he _wasn't). _Carter stood there and this was different. Carter had come to see him, of course, but usually Rick or Reuben or both of them were there already. Danny rested his head back down on the pillow and waved a hand in acknowledgement as Carter came and sat down beside him.

"How are you doing?"

Danny held up a thumb and Carter evidently didn't miss the accompanying irony.

"I know. Stupid question." Carter glanced up at the TV screen, Oprah playing low in the background, and smiled. "You'll be getting a daytime TV habit by the time the plaster's off."

He smiled with his eyes. Part of him was wondering about asking the question when Carter brought the subject up.

"I don't know where Rusty's gone," Carter said and the weariness was heavy in his voice. "He's disappeared and he's incommunicado. I haven't seen him since he told me that you and Rick and he were going to go after whoever did this."

Carter's eyes were on his and they were full of worry and fear. Compelling. Danny couldn't look away.

"I'm frightened for him, Danny," Carter said simply. "Please. If you know any place I can start looking… Please tell me."

Carter pushed the pen and paper towards him and Danny stared at him, his mind buzzing with a hundred different thoughts.

_Rusty had gone missing…Rusty had gone after killers before…Rusty had given everything he could to find them… _

He remembered Rusty sitting in this room. The grief over Ed. The knowledge of who lay behind the killings. And over the top of it all overlay Rusty's words:

"_I know what it feels like to have vengeance taken away from you. I won't deny you that. We wait."_

Rusty had promised. He had _promised. _And Danny believed. Wherever Rusty was, it couldn't be anything to do with Larner's.

_**

* * *

**_

SomeWhere…SomeTime…

Grey eyes studied the board of play and then looked up at the silver eyes opposite. It was a point, a definite point and incuriously, he wondered.

Silver eyes looked back at him and they could both foresee consequences and actions.

"You really want…?"

She tossed her brown hair back dismissively. "It's about the long-term picture."

He nodded slowly and then caught her arm as she nudged a stray thought back into place.

"That's really not allowed."

She shrugged. "It already existed."

And that was true. He considered for a long moment, eternity and a half-life.

"Very well."

* * *

Waiting for room service, Rusty took off his jacket and threw it on his bed. Two phones spilled out. He picked up his actual and suddenly remembered the missed calls. Carter. It didn't make a heap of sense – he'd been out of Carter's life for seven years, after all – but Carter still seemed to feel some kind of responsibility for him. As if Saul had bequeathed a legacy of caring.

Carter was going to want to know he was OK. And of course, if he didn't hear from him, Carter was going to look for him. Oh, he could run and hide like last time but Larner's was a fixed spot. The likelihood was that Carter might find him.

Rusty looked at the phone. Speaking to Carter was impossible but maybe…

* * *

Carter's phone rang and he pulled it out, annoyance and apology melting into relief as he stared at it.

"It's a text from Rusty." He glanced up at Danny whose eyebrows were raised questioningly.

"_Carter, I'm fine," _Carter read aloud_. "I just need some time alone. Please don't call me. I'll be back in touch when I'm ready to talk."_

They both digested the information.

"Guess he's taking some time out," Carter said softly, rereading the text message. "As long as he's OK…"

He looked up at Danny who seemed as relieved as he was.

"Sorry, Danny. Didn't mean to pressure you. Just that Rusty has a habit of disappearing quicker than a rabbit down a hole."

Danny's eyes said that he understood. And they said something more, too. They were asking questions…

"…about Rusty? You want to hear about Rusty?" Carter's face wrinkled into a grin. "My pleasure."

* * *

Room service balanced on his knee, Rusty's other phone rang. He hit the mute on the remote control and answered it at once.

"James Gallagher. Oh, _hi…_yeah…good…no, nothing special. Just sitting eating a burger and watching a gameshow. So your flight was OK?...good. Yeah. Yeah, I do too. I do. I'll call you tomor-…Oh. OK. You call me. Sure. Bye, then. Bye."

Rusty hung up and attacked the burger with a vengeance.

* * *

Stories over – and there had been several – Carter left Danny to it and walked along the hospital corridors, digging into his pocket for his phone again.

"Bobby? Carter. It's OK. I've heard from Rusty and he's alright. I guess all this has really shaken him up. Anyway. Wanted to let you know. Take care."

_**

* * *

**_

SomeTime…SomeWhere…

He considered for a long moment, eternity and a half-life.

"Very well."

Other things had also been in motion, after all.

* * *

On stakeout, Bobby waited for the right moment and played back the message. So Rusty was safe. Well, he liked Rusty and he felt as relieved about that as Carter did. But that wasn't going to stop him looking. Carter hadn't asked him to and he didn't work that way.


	48. Separation

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: didn't create the characters – just paddling in the Ocean world.

A/N: little _"Phoenix Nights"_ line in here, little Police reference.

Chapter Forty-eight: Separation

* * *

The next day, James nodded and smiled his way into Larner's and took his place at the desk next to Jennie.

"You feeling OK?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," James assured her. "Thanks for asking."

She looked him over speculatively and James kept the smile on his face. Rusty knew that his lip was still a little swollen; that the mark on his forehead was still there, though fading. He had a story lined up but Jennie didn't ask. Instead, she nodded briskly.

"Well, it's good to have you back, James. We've got an auction coming up next week and we need to get the pieces in. We've got a busy time ahead of us."

James clicked into professional mode. "I won't let you down, Jennie."

Jennie smiled. "I know you won't. Oh, and here. This came in the morning mail."

She passed him a small package addressed to James Gallagher. Rusty raised an eyebrow. He opened it up and a small packet of four truffles fell out into his hands.

"Oooh…" Jennie grinned. "Looks like someone's got a secret admirer."

"Yeah…"

Rusty stared at the chocolates. He knew who they were from. There could only be one person whom they were from. He checked the packaging. Sent from La Maison du Chocolat. No message. No clue to give Alex away to an unsuspecting Larner's employee.

"Probably from a happy customer. Would you like to share?" James asked charmingly.

Jennie laughed. "Why not? Thank you."

They each bit into a champagne truffle and mmmed in unison. Jennie looked up and nudged James.

"Customers," she murmured.

The chocolates disappeared at once underneath James's desk.

* * *

Lunchtime and Rusty headed out to a café a few streets down. It was only half-full and he dropped into an empty booth at the back and phoned Rick.

"I can't meet you on Saturday," Rusty said without preamble. "I've checked the rota and I'm down to work in the morning."

"Right." Rick exhaled heavily. "What about the afternoon?"

"No can do." Rusty said at once. "Alex is coming back then."

_And he will want to meet up _were the unspoken words.

"Coming back from where?" Rick wanted to know.

"Constantine and Alex are out of town. Taken some of their boys with them. Some sort of meeting with others in the organisation."

"And they left you behind? Not as in with the in crowd as you think you are."

No, he wasn't. And he sighed without noise because now he was going to have to explain the implications of Alex being away.

"I won't be able to get hold of the black book with the details of the drops."

"You won't-"

"_No._"

Obviously. He wasn't even sure where the black book was but he guessed it was on holiday in Florida with Alex. There was a silence at the other end of the phone and Rusty pictured the exasperation on Rick's face.

"I've got Friday off," Rusty began, "we can meet then-"

"What's the point?" Rick interrupted.

"Well, _you've_ got some reconnaissance work to do this week," Rusty said fiercely. "We can discuss that."

There was a heavy sigh and then reluctantly, "I guess. I'll be travelling back from one of the drops…4pm in the diner."

Final. Decisive. Dismissive. Rick hung up and Rusty snapped the phone shut angrily. He needed Rick for this to work, he reminded himself.

_Not as in with the in crowd as you think you are. _

Yeah. That was more of a problem than he'd expected.

* * *

Danny rolled his head from side to side and tried to ease the knotted muscles in his shoulders. What he could do with was a damn good massage. Mmm. Well, not any time soon. His eyes flicked hopefully towards the door. Rick had gone out for lunch and that had been a little while ago now. He felt a little lonely today. Reuben was coming in later and Rick had only been there for about half an hour before he'd stepped outside. And no Carter…

Carter's stories yesterday had been unforgettable.

"_To start at the beginning, I guess I have to talk a little about Saul. You heard about Saul?"_

_Danny nodded vigorously. He'd heard a little and he was willing to let Carter think he knew more than he did. That way he'd _definitely _know more._

_Sadness misted Carter's face._

"_Saul was an amazing con man," Carter said slowly. "Brilliant. He could slide into a role so smoothly…" He smiled. "You should have heard him…he could be a Russian arms dealer, an English hotel critic, a doctor, a lawyer, a colonel, a businessman… Just wonderful. He had great instincts and…he was completely reliable. A stand-up guy."_

_There was emotion in Carter's voice and for a moment, Danny didn't think he was going to continue. Then Carter took a deep breath and went on._

"_Saul's wife, Annie, died and for six months or so, he was completely lost. He loved her so much…"_

_Carter stopped suddenly and stared at Danny._

"_Oh, God, Danny, I'm sorry, I'm so _sorry_."_

_Danny blinked heavily and gave an abrupt nod. Teresapain but he could handle. He wanted to hear more. _

"_After Annie…after he'd come back to us…Saul did something unexpected. He took in a homeless boy, Mitch. I think he wanted to give something back…to teach someone what he knew… Anyway. Mitch came on board and some months later, Saul came back home with Rusty. Impulse again, but he told me that he saw something in Rusty that he couldn't let go. Intelligence and grace and instinct…" Carter gave a half smile. "Rusty had all that in spades."_

_Rusty _still _had all that in spades. _

"_Saul brought him to see me and Rusty was just…fantastic. He slipped into the con like he'd been born to it. Great reflexes, great understanding, superb attention to detail…we did this one con with a City banker…"_

_Danny drank up the con. It was sharp and professional and skilful and he could see Rusty within it, sharp and professional and skilful._

_More stories. More cons. Some involving Carter, some that Rusty had worked with Saul and Mitch. All of them, fascinating. _

"_And he's a natural with cards," Carter grinned. "Have you found that out yet?"_

_Memories of Rusty dealing…the magic of watching that… _

_Carter looked at him and smiled. "Yeah, I guess you have." The smile dropped away. "Anyway. It all came to an end suddenly. I got a call from a guy named Fat Joe. Runs a bar in Pittsburgh. Told me some sort of half-cocked horror story…I couldn't really take it in but by the time I got there…"_

_Carter paused and Danny could see urgency and confusion and fear flickering through him; no doubt that he was back at Fat Joe's._

"_Mitch had been shot in the head. Rusty had been shot. Saul was missing. Christ…" _

_Rusty's words echoed in Danny's head. "_I _never_ saw the set-up from Mitch coming."

_Carter was speaking again._

"_Couldn't get anything much from Fat Joe. And Rusty was in a bad way. I wanted to take him back home… I wanted to look after him…" Carter took a deep breath. "Before I could do any of that, Rusty took off. Didn't take much to work out he'd gone after whoever was responsible. Can't say I blame him. Saul and Mitch were his family."_

_There was something in Carter's voice. Some sort of sanction and understanding. _

"_It was wonderful seeing him again," Carter said softly. "Just wonderful. I'm so glad he came back to me." He looked at Danny. "I just want him safe." _

_Safe like Saul would have wanted. Safe like _Danny _wanted._

Alone in a hospital bed, Danny stared at the ceiling. Somehow it didn't matter that before a month ago, he'd never heard Rusty's name. He understood that Rusty was in need of some time alone and he respected that. But he wanted Rusty safe. He wanted Rusty _(there with him and) _safe.

* * *

After work, Rusty sat in his hotel room and ordered room service again. He poured himself another glass of Shiraz and channel-hopped. He was drinking too much. He didn't need worried dark eyes that said nothing out loud and everything else far too loudly. Wine and whisky and he didn't _care_. There just didn't seem to be any escape from the life of James Gallagher.

Sipping the red wine, he flicked through the channels and hit upon _"Rope"_. He sat and watched Jimmy Stewart gradually realise that murder had taken place and the two co-conspirators gradually fold under pressure and disdainful arrogance.

Alex called him halfway through his steak.

"Hi," James said warmly. "How's it going?"

"Well, I'm missing holding you." Soft and genuine.

"I'm missing being held." Soft and a complete lie.

When he'd hung up, he sat silent for a moment and pushed the half-eaten food to one side, flopping back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. These lies he was spouting. This lie he was living. The untruths coated him; stained him; permeated him. James's life: work, rest and play. For a moment, he thought he was going to throw up.

Ed's broken and mutilated body swam before his eyes and he pushed the feeling of nausea away. The end justified the means. Why the fuck couldn't he remember that? Why the fuck did he keep forgetting that? He needed to just get on with it. This was no different to any other job. James Gallagher was just a part that he was playing and it was all about gathering information, setting up the sting with Rick and then, when Danny was better, when Danny was healed…

Danny. When he'd left Vermont, Danny had been stable but fragile and Rusty wondered with a desperate intensity how Danny was now. He couldn't be that bad or Rick would have said something _(wouldn't he?)_. The question had floated up to his lips more than once when he'd been talking to Rick but he couldn't imagine Rick answering in the way that, say, Carter would.

He could text Carter. The thought had him sitting up and halfway towards reaching for his phone when he stopped. There couldn't be any continuing conversation with Carter. If Carter imagined that Rusty was anxious about Danny, then Rusty wouldn't put it past Carter to use that to get Rusty back at Danny's bedside. It was easy enough to lie in a text, after all. No. There just wasn't any way to find out.

Oh, but there _was!_ The idea hit him like a freight train. Alex was away and he had Friday off. The meeting with Rick was late Friday afternoon. He could fly to Vermont on Thursday evening and see Danny during the night. Wouldn't be the first time. In fact, that was exactly the alone time that he'd found to visit Danny before.

Sitting at Danny's bedside as he slept, smoothing away the bad dreams… Just being with Danny… Rusty's heart felt lighter than it had done in a fortnight.

* * *

Wednesday brought another box of chocolates and an auction house that was heaving. The imminent auction had brought customers streaming through the door and James worked easily and efficiently, logging items, offering advice, picking out the choice pieces. Jennie did spot checks of his work and smiled and nodded.

There was no time for a full lunch hour. Rusty grabbed a sandwich and headed up to the staff room. It was empty apart from Davey who sat with a can of soda and a paper. James gave a nod of acknowledgement and sat down a little way away. Davey shuffled closer.

"You missing Mr Alex?" he asked and there was a knowing look on his face that Rusty longed to punch away.

Huh. Davey was all about the blunt and direct. James stared at Davey with just a hint of disdain at the question.

"Yes," James said stiffly. "It'll be good to see him again."

The disdain was lost on Davey. "He'll be back soon. These meetings are once a quarter, usually. Mind you, doesn't stop Mr Fitzwilliam just dropping in."

Davey stopped as if discretion had suddenly caught up with him and Rusty acted instinctively.

"Alex has told me about Mr Fitzwilliam."

Davey relaxed. "Yeah. Well, Mr Fitzwilliam is _the _man."

"Thought that was Constantine," James said with a smile.

"Oh, Mr Constantine is right up there," Davey nodded vigorously. "Figure one day, he's going to be in charge. 'Course, there's Lyle…and Trey… Couple of young guns… Not in Mr Constantine's league," Davey added loyally.

Lyle. Trey. Rivals. Interesting…

"Alex is…" James tailed off and Rusty waited.

"Alex is a real gentleman," Davey nodded. "Tony and I say so all the time."

"Tony would know," James smiled.

"Tony's been with them since forever," Davey said eagerly. "Right by their side."

Loyal, faithful, killer Tony.

"He's with them now, of course."

"Yeah. Him and Nelson."

Nelson. One of the men Felicity had mentioned. Rusty's gut knotted.

"He's left you in charge?" James suggested guilelessly.

"That's right." Davey swelled with pride and then had the grace to admit, "Well, Wes and Lloyd, I suppose. But Brady, Mason and I, we're looking after things. We all work together all the time like a really slick team."

Wes; Lloyd; Brady; Mason. Oh, he couldn't be certain but had Davey just given him the names? And was Davey involved? He couldn't be sure. Something in the way Davey was telling the story seemed to be more about wish-fulfilment.

The door opened and Jennie appeared.

"James?" she said with just a hint of reproach.

"Sorry, Jennie. I'm back down."

James looked ashamed and contrite and followed Jennie down to the auction floor, Rusty's mind digesting the information he'd uncovered.

* * *

It was an instinctive gesture that Rusty felt James would make. Dick Wallace had come down from upstairs with an envelope that needed posting from the main office and an aunt that needed collecting from JFK. James wasn't picking up the aunt but he offered to post the envelope and Dick thanked him gruffly.

Now, Rusty was on his way back to his hotel and regretting taking the subway. The train was crowded. Nose to armpit time and Rusty stood patiently with the rest of the shoppers and the workers and the tourists. The doors shut and opened again and Rusty glimpsed tattooed knuckles curling around them so that their owner could force their way into the carriage. He shuffled a few inches along obligingly. Mystery of the subway, that a hundred strangers could stand so close together, so intimately, bodies pressed up against one another and remain in complete isolation.

Rusty got off at his stop and walked the block back to the hotel. Wasn't like that feeling of complete isolation was going to leave him any time soon.

* * *

The TV was showing reruns of _"Happy Days"_: Rusty watched the Fonz educating Richie Cunningham in the ways of cool and waited for room service to arrive. Pasta and tiramisu and another bottle of red wine: the first hadn't really touched the sides. There was a knock on the door and Rusty reached for his wallet.

"Thanks," he said as the waiter brought in the tray of food and left it on the side.

Rusty held out the ten dollar bill and the waiter's hand closed round it and it was all Rusty could do not to exclaim then and there. It was all Rusty could do to turn casually away as the waiter disappeared through the door.

"_HATE". _Written across the man's knuckles. Just like on the subway.

It could be a coincidence. Even if it was the same man, it could be a coincidence – waiters had to travel to work, after all and some of them must indulge in body art. But Rusty didn't believe in coincidences and _that_ meant it was deliberate. He was being followed. Someone was interested in his movements; in the places he visited; in the people he met. Someone was interested enough to set someone in pursuit.

Rusty tried to remember every thing about the waiter he hadn't been able to stare at. 5'11", slim build, brown hair… Average Joe. And as for who was behind Average Joe… Not Alex. _Probably_ not Alex. More likely Constantine. Big brother checking up on little brother's boyfriend. Finding out what James got up to when Alex wasn't around. Rusty's mouth tightened. So what? He was on some sort of leash? His every breath, his every move being watched?

His every move being watched.

_Oh…_

He couldn't go to Danny.

He couldn't.

His fingers curled into his palms.

Sanctuary…silent absolution…even for a few moments, a few minutes, even for an hour or two… Respite. And now, it wasn't happening. Rusty ran a hand over his mouth. His hand was shaking. With an effort, he steadied it. Tough. He needed to be _tough_.

Right. More importantly than a pointless visit to a hospital, he had to cancel the meeting with Rick. Rusty dug his phone out of his pocket and then headed to the bathroom and started running the shower. He didn't know if his room had been bugged but he wasn't going to take any chances.

Rick was in a friendly mood.

"This had better be good, golden boy. I'm about to watch the big game."

"Meeting's off," he said succinctly.

There was a silence and then, "Whaddya mean it's off?"

"You know how it was on?" Rusty said, allowing some anger to flavour his voice. "Well, now it's off."

"You been drinking again?" The sneer travelled all the way down the phoneline.

Rusty gritted his teeth. "_Listen, _asshole, I'm being followed-"

"They on to you?" The urgency in Rick's voice suggested that the danger of being found out had outweighed the undoubted snarl at the insult.

"No. Think it's more about making sure I'm being faithful."

There was a snort. "Oh, you're _all_ about the faithful," Rick muttered.

Rusty ignored him. "Just stay away and don't call. I'll call you."

"You even want to hear about what I've done this week?"

"It'll keep." Rusty hesitated. He still wanted desperately to know the answer. Fourteen days apart and it _hurt_. Unexpected but true. Oh, not in the same way that Ed's death wrecked him but nevertheless rich, rich pain. "How's Danny doing?"

There. The words were out.

"_Now_ you think to ask after him?" Sharp and full of scorn. "Like you really give a fuck." A short bark of a laugh. "Just get busy doing what you do best. Let me know when you've got something for me."

The line went dead and Rusty closed his eyes, resting the phone against the side of his head. In the background, the shower ran.

* * *

He moved on autopilot as James through Thursday at Larner's, mechanically eating the chocolates, mechanically dealing with customers. Thursday evening was mostly about the Merlot. And not thinking about what he could have been doing.

* * *

When Rusty woke up on Friday, throat dry and headache settling in for the duration, he wondered what he was going to do with his day. Wandering around New York on his own, wondering where Mr Tattoo Hands was? It was almost a relief when Jennie rang James's phone and apologetically asked if he would mind coming in on his day off.

* * *

Saturday started off as busy as the rest of the week had been but the crowd dwindled towards lunchtime. James looked up with a smile as Tony stood over his desk.

"Hello?" James said tentatively.

Tony nodded impassively, silently handed him a note and then turned towards Jennie. "How has everything been, Ms Dexter?"

As Jennie began a brief overview of the key points of the past few days, Rusty scanned the note.

"_Come upstairs. Now."_

He had half an hour to go before his shift ended. Looked like he was getting some extra time off.

Rusty closed down his workstation and disappeared discreetly. He headed out and around the corner and up in the elevator where Davey was waiting at the top with a _"wink, wink, nudge, nudge" _expression that made Rusty bite his lip.

Alex's door was open. Rusty stepped inside and found a trail of red and pink rose petals leading him towards the bathroom. Heart sinking, Rusty pushed the door to behind him and James dutifully followed the path.

Rich, scented steamy air. An ice bucket with champagne chilling. A box of truffles on the side. A bath full of bubbles and Alex.

James smiled. "Welcome home."

* * *

Later and Constantine was in his office reading through the business activity when Tony appeared, waiting silently until Constantine raised his eyes expectantly.

"James Gallagher checks out. Education, employment, referees. All good, sir."

Constantine nodded thoughtfully. "And this week?"

"Brady says that there was nothing untoward. Mr Gallagher came to work and went back to his hotel room every night. He stayed in his room and ordered food in. He entertained no company. Mr Gallagher even came into work on his day off when asked. Ms Dexter has nothing but praise for him."

Constantine raised an eyebrow. "Interesting."

"I thought so, sir."

There was something in Tony's voice. Constantine waited.

"His hotel account shows that he ordered rather a lot of alcohol, Mr Constantine."

"You think he has a problem?"

"Maybe…maybe it was simply…"

"Loneliness?" Constantine considered. "Mmm. Maybe."

Constantine had surprised James with the news that Alex would be going away and James hadn't disappointed with his reaction: shock and hurt. In Florida, Constantine had spent the past four days watching Alex do nothing but mope. Maybe James had fallen just as hard.

* * *

Warm kisses up and down the crook of his neck. Post-sex – _slowfast tenderfurious soulscreaming awfulawfulawful _reunion sex – face-to-face embrace.

"You get the chocolates?"

"Every day."

"I missed you so much," Alex whispered. "Guess distance makes the heart grow fonder."

James tenderly stroked Alex's cheek and then ran his fingers gently down Alex's shoulder, Alex's arm, Alex's flank, Alex's hipbone. His fingers lingered.

"Makes other things grow-"

Alex's mouth covered his in an instant.

* * *

A/N: Seriously am bemused by couples who think _"Every Breath You Take"_ is a nice song to play at a wedding.


	49. Satisfaction

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: just borrowing Danny and Rusty. Reluctant to hand them back again. Must I?

A/N: thanks to otherhawk for the pre-read. If I could make chocolate peanut butter cookies for you, mate, I would. As it is, I can only offer up fic. Not even close to being as mmm.

Chapter Forty-nine: Satisfaction

* * *

Constantine sipped a Sunday morning coffee and thought about the tensions of the meeting this past week. Mr Fitzwilliam had been cool and distant. Not exactly frosty but not exactly welcoming either. That one damn fiasco and _years_ of trust were in danger of going up in smoke.

Lyle and Trey had lapped it all up, of course. Lyle playing mine host, all smiles and little half-conversations with Trey and worse, with Mr Fitzwilliam. He'd waved away Alex's concern with a smile and refused to rise to the bait in public. Naturally, Lyle wasn't going to leave it alone. There was a quiet little moment between them.

_"Looks like your halo's slipped, Constantine. How _was_ Colombia? Two weeks with no TV, no phone and no fine dining? Bet you're begging Mr Fitzwilliam for another trip. 'Course, while you're gone, I'll be happy to keep your seat warm at the top table. By the time you get back, your chair may have disappeared altogether."_

_Constantine gave a lazy stretch and cracked his knuckles._

_"Don't get too used to the spotlight, Lyle," he said lightly. "Just makes you that much easier to find." _

In-fighting was a given. Mr Fitzwilliam even encouraged the jockeying for position. And everyone knew the price for failure. Wasn't like anyone was forgetting Hewett and his almighty fuck-up from two years ago. Official investigation and embarrassment and Mr Fitzwilliam had acted swiftly to show his displeasure: no trips to Colombia had been involved.

Constantine bit his tongue and played the penitent with good grace. He was respectful and polite and had offered shrewd comments and observations and by the time Alex and he had left Florida, bridges were definitely being rebuilt. He'd reassured Alex on this point and been caught between amusement, anger and frustration that Alex's focus had been partly on this and mostly on the lack of James.

Now they were back in New York, preparing for the auction and if that went well, then Mr Fitzwilliam would definitely start to smile on them again. And as for James… Constantine pursed his lips. He needed to talk to Alex and then he needed a little conversation with James. One or two things he wanted to explore.

* * *

Alex was a little distracted over lunch however hard James tried to get his attention.

"What is it?" James asked eventually. "You're not breaking up with me, are you?"

"God, no!" Alex exclaimed and then flushed. "I'm sorry. Constantine caught me before I came out to meet you."

There was trace anger there. Must have been something about their relationship...

"Want to talk about it?" James offered gently.

"No." Alex shook his head. "I want to enjoy my lunch. And being with you."

And try though Rusty might, Alex refused to say anything more on the subject.

* * *

That _had _to be a wig. Bobby smiled politely across the desk at Doug Quentin and wondered if Doug counted a Persian rug amongst his ancestors. Reuben had given him Doug's contact details and Doug had gladly seen a friend of Reuben's who was in town for a Sunday night.

"Reuben told me you'd had a tough time of it of late," Bobby said sympathetically. "But I understand that Danny and Rusty helped you out…?"

That was as much of a prompt as Doug needed. The whole story poured out of him as Bobby hoped it would. Alisha…Anton…the money…the Canaletto… And the wonderful work that Danny – _just _Danny, Bobby noted - had done to redress the balance.

The cons had been clumsily described and Doug had clearly only been given the topline of what had been undertaken but Bobby could see the shape of the plans, could sense the commitment to detail. Oh, those boys were _good._

"I feel so much better knowing that justice has been done," Doug said with more than a hint of satisfaction.

Mmm. Well, Doug obviously had no idea that there had been consequences. Bobby kept the smile on his face and steered the conversation back to where he wanted it.

"I bet they never try anything like that again."

"Taking advantage of my good nature," Doug nodded.

"Exactly. Probably from a bad neighbourhood. Where did you say Alisha lived?"

* * *

By Danny's reckoning, he was waking up to week five. Week five had been his goal for healing and he was ready to tear all the plaster off and rip the wires from his mouth but he figured he'd leave it to the guys who knew what they were doing. He asked without words as best he knew how. The guys who knew what they were doing, however, weren't playing ball.

"Too soon," one of them said, looking him over and clucking his tongue.

_Like hell._

"Don't want to rush these things."

_See above._

"Another week and we'll be sure."

Danny had reached out and grabbed the man's arm and his eyes had been fierce and full of angry determination. He wanted out. Out of plaster, out of bed, out of hospital. And this man had _no _idea how badly he wanted it.

The man had removed his hand and smiled at him with the patronising look of one who feels certain they know best.

"It's for your own good, Mr Ocean. You've suffered serious injuries and there's absolutely no point in undoing all the good work that's been done. You do see that?"

Without waiting for an answer, the doctor patted Danny's hand, marked a few notes on the clipboard at the end of Danny's bed and then left the room.

Danny glared after him. He stared down at himself and glowered. Stupid, idiotic, useless… Exasperated and frustrated, he grabbed the glass of water with the straw beside his bed and hurled it at the door.

* * *

It was Monday mid-morning and James had just finished dealing with a customer when Tony appeared beside his desk. For one awful moment, Rusty imagined another little note summoning him.

"Mr Taylor would like a word," Tony said discreetly.

Not _even_ a little note. And not even lunchtime. With a fixed smile, James stood up and started to head towards the exit. Out the doors, round the corner, up in the elevator, down the corridor, into the room where Alex would be waiting… Tony stopped him.

"Sorry, Mr Gallagher." He sounded genuinely apologetic. "I meant Mr Constantine. Please follow me."

_Constantine? _Cautiously, Rusty trailed after Tony towards the main bank of elevators and let Tony escort James all the way to Constantine's office where the man himself was sat behind a desk full of paperwork. Rusty caught just a glimpse of black ink and a ledger before it was firmly closed and put to one side.

"Thanks, Tony, that'll be all." Constantine motioned James to take a seat in front of the desk and warily, Rusty did so.

"I take it you're pleased to see Alex again."

Thrilled. James nodded with a polite frown.

"He's delighted to see you," Constantine informed him, sitting back in his chair. "And I'm delighted he's delighted."

Good. Everyone was happy.

"You've certainly made an impression in a very short space of time, James. Not just on Alex."

There was something in the way he said it. Rusty stared at him and the memory of the way Constantine had looked at him when he'd walked out of the shower bloomed. He felt heat rising within him and he was suddenly twenty-one and back with Tommy Reiss. He swallowed hard.

Constantine tilted his head on one side and there was that damn amusement again. _Fuck_. It was _not_ like that. Rusty told himself to get a grip.

"You've settled in well on the dealer desks. Jennie says you've picked up the system extremely quickly and that you have a pleasant way with the customers."

"Jennie's a good teacher," James volunteered. "And I like the job."

"Pleased to hear it. Larner's needs committed employees who enjoy their work."

Underlining their roles. The man in charge and the man who was under him. And Constantine was all about the power. Rusty bit his lip and waited for Constantine to continue.

"We've got an auction coming up this week. I have no doubt you're aware how the last auction went."

James nodded and showed sympathy.

"That must never happen again. I won't have this operation held up to ridicule."

Either side of the operation. And Rusty could see the determination in Constantine. His pride had been hurt and that made him a dangerous enemy. Yeah. Well, he'd learned that lesson already.

The implacable in Constantine's eyes died away.

"On a personal note, James, I wanted to thank you again for the way you looked after Alex the other Sunday."

"He made it all sound so much more than it was," James said dismissively. "They were just kids."

"Still. There were four of them." Constantine gave him a contemplative look. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

James gave an easy shrug. "Not the first time I've had to deal with someone objecting to my lifestyle choices."

Constantine smiled. "I can imagine. Alex has had a few objections along the way that I've had to deal with."

That, _Rusty_ could imagine. Alex, on the receiving end of jibes and taunts and Constantine, oozing menace and retribution, protecting his little brother because that was what big brothers did.

"And those scars of yours…" Constantine said.

Once more, the memory of Constantine's eyes travelling over his body blazed through the air between them. Rusty kept tight control of the shudder and opened his mouth to tell-

"That story you shot Alex! Scaffolding!" Constantine shook his head with a soft laugh. "Oh, don't worry, I didn't put him right but I know gunshot wounds when I see them."

Silence. Rusty realised he was holding his breath and exhaled slowly.

"So, tell me," Constantine invited pleasantly.

Alright. Maybe there was a way this might work. James ran a hand over his mouth and licked his lips.

"Like I said. Some people objected to my lifestyle choices."

Constantine's eyes narrowed, burning into his, demanding answers.

"I-I fell in with a bad crowd when I was younger," James went on, his voice low and reluctant. "I wasn't exactly on the side of the angels."

"What did you do?"

Heavy sigh. Unwillingness. "Me and a friend got in over our heads. Someone asked us to smuggle some stuff back from abroad and-"

"Drugs?" Constantine interjected sharply.

"Diamonds. Look, it was a long time ago, Mr Taylor. I was young and stupid."

"And shot."

James shivered.

"Yes," he whispered. "We got paid what seemed like a fortune to get these stones into the country. We'd done it twice already and…the third time wasn't so lucky. There was a double-cross. I got shot up and they left me for dead."

"And what about your friend?"

Misery twisted James's face. "They didn't make that mistake with him."

_Willoughby. Mitch. A bag of jewels, a gun and pain and death filling a room._

Constantine nodded silently.

"Please, Mr Taylor." The emotion in James's voice was rich and Rusty didn't have to go too far into himself to find it. "_Please _don't say anything to Alex."

Constantine's lips twitched. "Is it alright if I just sack you?"

James stared at him, open-mouthed and horrified.

"I'm joking," Constantine reassured him. "Look, we've all done things that we regret. Sometimes, these things aren't as bad as our memory paints them."

"I promise you I won't do anything to disgrace Larner's, Mr Taylor."

Good," Constantine said, apparently satisfied.

Was this conversation over? Rusty half-rose out of the chair and then Constantine's next words had him sitting back down again.

"It's Alex's birthday a week on Friday. I don't expect he told you."

James shook his head slowly.

"I thought about this as a present. If you like, we can say it's from both of us."

Constantine tossed him a small box and Rusty caught it. He opened it up and stared at the specimen kit and the implication was obvious.

"I'm clean," he said and the mocking laughter was loud in his head.

"Well, you're an intelligent man so I don't doubt that you are." Constantine smiled lazily. "Protection every time, right?"

Right. Well, every time except the one time – _the first time -_ he hadn't had any say in it.

"I insist," James said coldly.

"Good," Constantine said and he meant it. He nodded at the box. "So do I. I've spoken to a doctor I know."

Rusty glared at him and Constantine looked at him through half-closed eyes.

"If you're clean, then…"

…then there would be no reason not to go through with it. Not if he cared about Alex. Not if he wanted what was best for Alex.

Rusty heard James ask the question.

"When's the appointment?"

* * *

Danny would be the first to admit he was sulking. He'd given up any pretence at civility and had been tactfully left on his own. He'd shrugged noncommittally at Elaine's attempts to talk to him; he had pointedly closed his eyes when Rick had arrived; he'd avoided Reuben's concerned gaze. And if Rusty had been there, he thought savagely, it was likely he'd have…

The thought died away unfinished. Rusty wasn't there. Rusty was away somewhere trying to get over the horror and trying to handle the pain and it was beyond selfish to wish that Rusty was there with him. Just that he felt he could picture the sympathy in Rusty's eyes over the continuing imprisonment. Rick just seemed to take whatever the medics said without question and Reuben wanted him properly healed. Neither of them was going to argue with the official line.

Rusty would understand. Rusty would empathise with the inaction and the impatience… because if he were in this position, it would drive Rusty crazy too.

The thing was, he had a plan. A very clear, crystal plan. Revenge and it would be long and drawn out and still too short. It would take Rusty and Rick and himself and it would be merciless and everlasting and he would look in the eyes of the men that had taken Teresa away from him and… Danny could _taste_ the revenge he couldn't take and it was so fucking painfully out of reach.

Fury and frustration overtook him and he raged helplessly against the constraints, tears running down his face, trying to break free, trying so hard to get loose, trying so hard…

_Teresa! Teresa! _

_Over and over and silently and out loud and he was begging and screaming and Eduardo was pleading with them and they were _laughing_ and he couldn't get free and there was nothing he could do but watch…_

"Danny!"

He came back to the hospital room with a jolt. Scott was back and standing beside his bed, his hand on Danny's good arm, alarm written all over his face.

"Danny," Scott said softly, brushing away the tears with his fingers. "Take it easy. Deep breaths."

He did as Scott said and slowly, slowly, his heart-rate returned to normal and the futile anger drained away. Scott.

There were so many things he wanted to say out loud to Scott. About life being truly too short to fall out with the best people you could ever hope to meet. About how he didn't know how much he'd missed Scott until now. About how he never wanted to lose touch with Scott again.

Some of it must have showed in his face. Scott nodded acknowledgement and sat down beside Danny, holding his hand and Danny understood that he never needed to say any of it out loud.

* * *

The examination was professional and clinical and awful. Rusty submitted to the doctor's dispassionate requests, mindful that Tony was outside in the waiting room, no doubt charged with making a full report to Constantine.

"Results will be through at the end of next week," the doctor announced, taking charge of the specimens as Rusty dressed. "I'll forward them on to Mr Taylor."

James thanked him and Rusty got out of the room as fast as he possibly could.

* * *

"Where's James?"

Constantine looked up from his paperwork in surprise to see Alex standing in front of him, face tight.

"James?"

"He left here before lunch and he hasn't been back since. Don't even attempt to tell me you don't know where he is!"

"Oh, I won't, little brother," Constantine agreed mildly. "Don't worry. He'll be back."

"What did you…where…" The energy sagged out of Alex and he slumped down on the chair in front of Constantine's desk.

Constantine sat back in his chair. "You remember our conversation yesterday?"

"Yes." Alex sounded miserable.

"_You are being careful, Alex."_

"_Of course-"_

"_Not like you know where he's been. Don't get carried away in the moment."_

"_We won't! Constantine, James is the best thing that's happened to me in a long while but neither of us are stupid."_

_A thoughtful nod._

"_Well, I can't blame you if you find it tricky. The other morning when I was looking for you, I saw him in nearly all his glory-"_

"What?"

"_Just out of the shower and sporting a towel." A low whistle. "He's certainly something to look at. If I were that way inclined-"_

"_Constantine!" Shocked._

_A grin at how easy Alex was to tease._

"_Ugly__ scars, though…" Constantine commented. "They kind of stand out..."_

_Alex glared at him. "If you must know, he had an accident with some scaffolding poles. And by the way, I don't find those scars unattractive in the slightest!"_

_Constantine had smiled with a degree of fond indulgence. "No. I don't suppose you do."_

"Yes, I remember the conversation," Alex went on and the anger was rising again. "What did you do? What did you say to him?"

Constantine shrugged. "I encouraged him to think about your relationship. About how seriously he was taking it."

Alex stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"Oh, he's not booking the church," Constantine grinned. "He's just taking the steps he should take if this is going some place."

The incomprehension was still there, edged with nervousness.

"Trust me, little brother." Constantine's eyes gleamed. "This is something you'll thank me for."


	50. On The Inside

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: do not own anything Oceany.

A/N: Fifty chapters? Wow. Still not going to be as many as "Eye for an Eye".

Chapter Fifty: On The Inside

* * *

Scott was with him. Scott was there and Danny knew logistically how difficult that was. His eyes asked the question.

"I have to leave early tomorrow," came the reluctant answer. "Just a flying visit."

Of course, of course.

"Reuben's been keeping me in the picture but I wanted to come and see you." Scott squeezed his hand. "I'd ask how you're doing but…"

Danny's eyes were full of wry twinkle.

"Actually…" Scott hesitated. "Have you tried talking recently? I mean I know you can't talk properly but…"

He had tried, more than once in the early days, and he couldn't form letters let alone words. His tongue had been heavy and swollen and uncooperative and his mouth hadn't felt like it belonged to him and he'd given it up as a bad job. But after five weeks of healing…

"I guess it's possible," Danny said experimentally through dry lips.

To his ears, it sounded thick and slurred and unintelligible but Scott was smiling and nodding encouragingly.

"Scott…"

"It's good to hear your voice, Danny." Emotion clouded Scott's eyes. "It's been a while."

It had been _years_. Danny's hand tightened reflexively around Scott's.

"I _never _want to lose touch with you again," Scott said, his voice thick with sentiment.

"No…" Danny agreed and Scott smiled.

It was an absolute promise.

* * *

Late afternoon. Tony on his heels, Rusty had barely walked through the door of Larner's when Alex appeared in front of him.

"James." With a breath of relief. Alex's hand closed round Rusty's elbow. "We need to talk."

Alex's eyes were full of questions and concern and the hand was urgent. Rusty caught sight of Jennie frowning in their direction.

"Of course," James smiled.

"Through here," Alex said in a low voice, steering him towards the auction room.

Rusty could feel Tony's eyes tracking them as they walked away.

* * *

The auction room was empty and private and Rusty watched Alex pace up and down for a moment or two.

"I didn't know where you were," Alex blurted out finally.

Rusty raised his eyebrows slightly. There was something else going on here, surely. Alex was wound up tighter than a gambler at the roulette table with his entire stakes riding on double zero.

"Well, I'm here now," James said hesitantly.

The door behind them opened and closed and Rusty didn't need to look to know who it was.

"Welcome back."

Rusty flashed Constantine a tight-lipped smile.

"Constantine said…" Alex licked his lips. "He said…"

"I said you were coming back again. You'd just had an appointment which you had to keep."

Constantine's eyes were doing that damn thing where they were offering up some sort of dare, goading him into reaction. James's mouth flicked upwards and down again. Right. He could take control of this.

Rusty turned his body slightly, cutting Constantine out, his attention completely on Alex.

"I've been and got myself checked out-"

"You're not ill?" Alex interrupted with sudden horror.

"No, no. I wanted you to be…reassured that I'm…" An infinitesimal pause. "…clean."

* * *

Alex stared at him unblinking for a long moment, realisation dawning. He glanced from James to Constantine and back again.

"You went…?"

"Yes," James nodded.

Alex's gaze shifted over to Constantine, exuding smugness.

"This was your idea!" he said fiercely and Constantine didn't deny it. Alex seized James's hand. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-"

"Your brother's only looking out for you," James said placatingly. "He wants to know that you're safe. And _I_ want you to know it too."

James's eyes were full of affection and Alex's widened in reply.

"Maybe you'd better get back, James," Constantine suggested. "I think you've had something of an extended lunchbreak."

Alex wanted to argue but he knew that he wasn't going to. Part of him wanted James to argue but that wasn't fair.

"I'll see you later," Alex said.

"Look forward to it," James said lightly and left the room.

There was a pause and the two brothers looked at each other.

"Keep out of my love life, Constantine. I've told you."

"I thought you'd be pleased-"

"You thought I'd be _pleased! _You tell a man that I am dating to go and get himself examined like he's some sort of-of-…" His face twisted. "I'm starting to like James, Constantine, and I mean _really_ like him. And I asked you to give us a chance. What do you do? You wade in with your high-handed demands to _prove_ himself… Just because he works for us doesn't mean you can order him around!"

He broke off, anger panting through him. Constantine's face was inscrutable.

"Do you understand, Constantine?"

"Results back next week, I understand," Constantine said as if he hadn't heard a word. "So you won't have to be careful for very much longer."

Alex shook his head in disbelief.

"And you're welcome," Constantine smiled as he stalked off.

Out in the main hall, Alex was still fuming. He vaguely registered that there were no customers, that the dealer desks were closing. He strode over to where James was closing down his screen.

"You logged off?" he asked.

"Yes," James looked startled.

"Good. Get your coat."

James hesitated, not quite looking over his shoulder at Jennie studiously not listening. Alex didn't care.

"I want out of here," Alex said emphatically.

* * *

They walked the streets in silence, Rusty letting Alex take the lead. Discord between the brothers and he wondered if he could work the advantage somehow. People made mistakes when they were off kilter.

A few blocks down and away and Alex stopped and turned.

"Can we go back to yours, James? Please?"

Rusty blinked. "I'm not really sure-"

"Please," Alex asked again, low and pleading.

James's smile was tight. "Sure."

* * *

"I should have done more, Danny. And I'm sorry that I didn't."

"Wasn't your fault." Danny shook his head. "And if I'd done what you said, she'd still be alive."

Tears started again.

"If you'd done what I said, she'd never have known what life was about," Scott said gently. "I may not have every detail of what you've done these past eight years, but I know you will have made living magical for her."

He'd tried. By God, he'd tried.

"I know she will have been happy," Scott went on. "And I can see how much she meant to you-"

Danny reached out and clutched Scott's arm and suddenly Scott was holding him and letting him cry and grieve, holding him until the tears were all cried out.

"When you've cracked off some of this plaster and metal, we can say goodbye to her properly."

Yes. Maybe that was the best order. Lay Teresa to rest first. Then wreak vengeance.

* * *

The hotel room was…a hotel room. It wasn't Alex's penthouse suite of luxury. It was a double bed with a bathroom off and since he hadn't known he was having a guest round, it was all in a state of Rusty.

"Sorry," James grimaced, gathering up stray items of clothing and stuffing them into a holdall. He straightened the covers on the bed and ushered Alex into the easy chair. "Not what you're used to, I know."

"It's fine," Alex said gallantly. "Please don't worry. I just wanted to get out of Larner's."

James smiled. "Well, room service isn't any great shakes but I can order a couple of BLTs and some sodas?"

"I want something stronger than soda," Alex said savagely.

"Whisky, it is." James swung up a three-quarter full bottle of Scotch and then hesitated. There was one glass with the tailend of a whisky from who knew when and a wineglass stained with Merlot.

"Bathroom," he said, disappearing and coming back with the clean toothglass.

He poured Alex a good measure and handed it to him, then knocked back the whisky dregs and poured himself a fresh glass. Too late, he felt Alex's eyes on him.

"Waste not, want not," James said with his most charming smile. "Shall I order the sandwiches?"

* * *

They'd eaten and they'd sat and sipped their drinks, James sprawled across the length of the bed, Alex perched in the easy chair alongside which was really anything but. After five minutes, the uncomfortable chair would have been a better name. The whisky helped.

"I know Constantine loves me," Alex found himself saying. "In his own way. I mean he's always been there and looked out for me. I remember wondering what he'd say when he found out I was…" He took a big gulp of whisky. "He came out with it, you know."

"Really?"

"'_Are you gay, Alex?' _Just like that." Alex shook his head at the memory. "I told him I wasn't sure and he said didn't I think this was something I should know the answer to. I was eighteen." Alex's eyes flickered over to James. "Seems a lifetime ago. And then shortly afterwards, I met Henrik."

"Sounds like a Viking."

Alex laughed. "I guess he was really. Tall and blond. In the Navy and in town for a few weeks. They were wonderful weeks." Alex's voice grew distant. "He was older and he knew what he was doing and it was so special." He turned a curious eye on James. "Your first time?"

James didn't answer immediately. He sat up and took a long swig of his drink. "An older guy. Who also knew what he was doing."

"I haven't really had many relationships since. Dated, of course. A couple of people I thought things might… Constantine. It's always bloody Constantine. I swear he enjoys scaring guys away."

"He's not going to scare _me_ away," James said firmly and Alex smiled.

"You are so wonderful, James. And going for that check-up." He couldn't keep the distaste from his voice. "I want you to know that I'm going to go for one as well. And I'll show you the results. This is a two-way deal and you need to know that you're safe too."

"Thanks," James smiled and downed more whisky.

"I mean it. If we're going to have unprotected sex…" Alex tailed off. "About that."

"Sex? Of course." James started one-handed to pull the bed into better shape and Alex's hand shot out to stop him.

He didn't know if he could say this. He'd almost said it once or twice before but somehow the words had been deflected. Alcohol made him brave.

"About us having sex. I can't help noticing-"

"We don't have enough of it? _You _are insatia-"

"-that you never come." There. He'd said it. "You never come." He said it again. "You're never hard. You never want me to touch you-"

"Alex-"

"No, please let me finish. You give me the most fantastic, mind-blowing… Seriously. It's like…whole new universes dawning inside my head. And you never once let me do the same for you. Why?"

James was silent for a long moment and then he said, "I've told you what I like."

"Yes, yes, you have. But it doesn't seem…is it a physical thing?"

James smiled that dazzling, brilliant smile and said inexplicably, "I'm feeling very Tony Curtis."

"What?" Alex was lost.

"In "Some Like It Hot". When he gets Marilyn to seduce him on the yacht. Look, Alex, I'm flattered that you're concerned for my enjoyment. Have I ever given you reason to think that I am _not_ enjoying myself?"

"No," Alex said slowly. James hadn't. James made all the right noises underneath him. James's eyes were half-closed in ecstasy. James's heart was always racing.

"Then let's leave it there for now, shall we?"

"But-"

"After all," James picked up the whisky and topped up Alex's glass, "we're barely a few weeks into this- damn!"

The exclamation came as James spilt whisky over his pants.

"Excuse me."

Alex watched him disappear off to the bathroom.

Well, that was that, then.

_Let's leave it there for now, shall we?_

There was a story. Just not one Alex was going to hear just yet.

As splashing and cursing came from the general bathroom area, Alex took the opportunity to stand up and stretch. God, this room was…pitiful. He couldn't picture himself living here and he'd had no idea that James was doing so. In his mind's eye, he'd seen some apartment block somewhere with a kitchenette and a couple of bedrooms. And drinking the stale whisky… James was a whole lot less well-off than he was letting on. No wonder there had been that slight reluctance to let him up here. As if he cared about any of that.

Alex strolled around the room and idly picked up a yearbook, easily locating James. Young and bright-eyed and very recognisable as the man he'd become. He must have broken some hearts in college. _"Boy Most Likely to Go Places"_.Well, he was here in the Big Apple, wasn't he?

Alex's gaze drifted down the page and fixed on a name. Edmund Fielding. Edmund. Alex suddenly scrutinised the black and white picture. Ordinary-looking, dark hair…faintest trace of a moustache… Ed? Was he looking at Ed, James's unrequited love?

His phone rang and he almost dropped the yearbook in surprise.

"You stopped having your tantrum?" Constantine. "Only we've got something of an emergency. Get back here now." There was a pause. "And bring James."

The line went dead as James appeared in the bathroom doorway, scowling at the pants he was holding.

"We've got to go," Alex told him abruptly.

Constantine's tone had brooked no arguments.

* * *

Rusty was as surprised as Alex was that James was included in the summons from Constantine but he wasn't going to argue. Any chance he got to get into that inner circle, he was going to take.

Tony was waiting for them when they stepped out of the elevator and he almost hustled them into the boardroom where, apart from Constantine himself, two other men Rusty didn't know were sitting at the table. Tony, Alex and he took a seat.

Constantine's face was full of barely-contained fury.

"We've had some bad news tonight," he began. "Wes and Mason were supposed to be picking up an extra delivery that Rocco organised. Pick up isn't going to be happening."

Rusty saw Alex's eyes start nervously towards him and Constantine waved an impatient hand.

"Mason is dead, Alex."

"_Dead?"_

"Wes and Mason got ambushed on the South Side. Tony got a call to go deal with the aftermath."

"Mason had his throat slit," Tony said in a monotone.

_Ed…so much blood…_ Rusty's fingers tightened into his palms.

"Wes had been stabbed," Tony went on. "He was the one who called me. I got him to Bellevue but it's not looking good."

There was pain in there. Well-hidden but it was in there. These were Tony's men, Rusty remembered. Friends. Colleagues. Murderers. With detachment he watched the big man suffering and wondered if it equated to an ounce of what he felt over losing Ed. He seriously doubted it.

"I think it's friendly fire," Constantine announced, his hands bunched into fists.

"What do you mean?" Alex frowned and then added as an afterthought, "Maybe James should-"

"I mean I think Trey is pushing things. Lyle will shoot his mouth off but he's too smart for a stunt like this. I think Trey's stirring. I think after the auction, he's scenting blood and he is fucking stupid enough to imagine that going after two of my men is a sensible plan."

"Trey wouldn't start a turf war!"

"Oh, he'd start it," Constantine disagreed grimly. "He just won't finish it." He glared round the table. "Now. Tony's sent Nelson to sniff out anything that might tie back to Trey. And he's got Davey watching over Wes in case they try again. Not that Davey will _do _anything but he's got eyes and ears."

"You think Rocco set us up?" Alex asked softly.

Constantine was silent and Rusty watched him consider the point. Maybe this was how the brothers worked: Constantine, all fire and drive and Alex, calmer, cooler, thinking about different angles.

"It's worth checking out," Constantine said eventually. He turned to the men Rusty didn't know. "Lloyd, Brady, go and make some enquiries. _Discreet_ enquiries. I don't want you two winding up at Bellevue as well."

Lloyd. Felicity had given him three names: Tony, Nelson and Lloyd. Rusty stared at the man. Thirties, shaven head, hoop earring from which…was that…? He had to look away. He could feel the anger and the nausea and the screaming rising within him and he had to look away. His gaze fell on to the table, on to Brady's hands. With the words _"LOVE"_ and _"HATE"_ across the knuckles. He made himself lift his eyes up to see Mr Average Joe looking back at him.

"What about the delivery?" Tony murmured. "If Rocco's genuine and we don't show then there's going to be questions."

"Yeah," Lloyd added. "And we already pissed him off at the auction."

Rusty wasn't looking at Lloyd. He _couldn't _look at Lloyd. Instead, he found himself looking at Constantine who was staring straight at him.

"What do you say, James? You up for a little adventure?"

"_No!"_ The word erupted from Alex in a horrified outburst. "You can't involve him in this, Constantine! He's not part of this world! He shouldn't even _be_ here!"

Constantine's eyes were on his, not letting him go, skewering him. "I need a man that Trey doesn't know. Someone who can make the pick up. Someone who's going to be very cool and very calm."

"What's the pick up?" Rusty heard himself ask hoarsely. "Drugs?"

Constantine smiled. "Diamonds."

Tension pulsed in the air, waiting for his answer. Rusty drew in a deep breath and James licked his lips.

"I can do it," James muttered.

"You cannot!" Alex was indignant. "James does not get involved!"

"It's James's decision and I don't hear any objections from James."

Alex grabbed his arm and Rusty turned to see worry and fear.

"You don't know what you're doing," Alex said in a low, intense voice. "You _mustn't_."

"S'okay," James reassured. "I want to."

"Tony'll go with you," Constantine said decisively, adding, "I'm sure you'll have some questions."

Questions. Yeah. Like how the hell he was suddenly helping the men responsible for Ed's death. James gave a curt nod and then smiled at Alex.

"Wait up for me."

* * *

The boardroom door closed and Alex stared at Constantine.

"I'm trying my very best to work out what you've got against me finding happiness."

"Relax, little brother." Constantine lit up a cigar and leaned back in his chair. "James will be fine. He's got Tony with him. You couldn't ask for better protection and from what you told me, James can handle himself in a tight spot just-"

Alex's fist crashed down on to the table. "You just don't get it!"

Constantine took a long drag on the cigar and exhaled smoke. "Maybe you'd better explain."

"James is… He's not contaminated by any of this, Constantine. None of the dirt and the crime and the grime. He's _pure._ And you want to drag him into all this…"

"You told me you thought this could be the real thing."

"I did. I do."

"Then, dear Alex, at some point he's going to find out about the dirt and the crime and the grime. Better that he find out sooner rather than later, don't you think? Besides," Constantine blew out more cigar smoke. "I thought he handled it rather well."

Alex let out an exasperated noise and pushed back his chair.

"Storming out of a room twice in a day?"

He ignored his brother and headed to the door, Constantine's parting words floating after him.

"Why don't you get him to tell you about what happened to his friend?"

His hand on the door handle, Alex stopped and turned round.

"His friend?"

Constantine's teeth gleamed. "His friend. When he was…young and stupid, I believe were his words."

"What happened?" Alex whispered.

"Oh, I promised not to tell. Let's just say tonight isn't so much of a first time for James."

* * *

Rusty was sitting in the back seat of the car, Brady beside him, Tony driving, Lloyd in the passenger seat, earring swinging. They were all headed to the South Side. Good to know that criminals cared about the carbon footprint too.

Everything was hurtling along like some carousel he couldn't get off. He couldn't imagine that saying no to Constantine would have been a clever move. And it wasn't like James was averse to a little handling of stolen goods. James had gone out of his way to explain that to Constantine earlier.

And somehow, now, he was travelling with two of the men, probably three of the men who had…he felt his gaze straying in Lloyd's direction and he forced his eyes back straight ahead. Three of the men. And he was going to…

"Mr Constantine said you'd probably want some answers," Tony called over his shoulder.

"Well, this is a sideline that wasn't covered in my job description."

Brady snorted back a chuckle.

"Mr Constantine and Mr Alex are part of a goods inward, goods outward operation. Sometimes, the goods are a little hot to handle."

It was a careful explanation. No mention of the bigger picture at Larner's or Mr Fitzwilliam…

"What about this Trey?"

"He's a nobody good-for-nothing nomark," Tony said with feeling. "Trying to get one up on Mr Constantine. Never gonna happen."

He pulled the car into the side of the street, mounting the sidewalk. "You two head out from here."

"Aw, Tony," Brady complained. "It's _miles_ away."

"Walk'll do you good. You think Wes wouldn't give his eye-teeth to be up and about? Get out the car."

Eye-teeth. Rusty closed his eyes as the nausea swept over him once more. He opened them in time to see Lloyd climbing out of the car, to see once again the earring with the teeth threaded on it.

"Hey, you'll be OK." Tony had turned round in the driver's seat. "You want to ride up front?"

No. He wanted to run and run and never stop running.

"Sure."

* * *

The pick up was easy. A nightclub, a restroom, a cubicle, a cistern, a small plastic package. Rusty went through the motions like an automaton.

"Good job," Tony said approvingly.

And then they were outside and driving away and back at Larner's where Constantine was waiting. The package was cut open and small clear stones tumbled out across the table.

"Well done," Constantine said brusquely and then glanced up at him. "You look tired. Alex is waiting."

Rusty's feet led him to Alex's door where Alex was indeed waiting to throw his arms around him and to hold him tightly and to mutter "I'm sorry, I'm sorry". Rusty let himself be held. Rusty let himself be gently sat down on the bed. Rusty let himself be undressed and hugged.

"I didn't want this for you," Alex was saying. "I didn't want you to… This is a dangerous world. People get hurt. People get…"

His hair was kissed.

"I hate it," Alex whispered. "The killing. I hate that anyone has to get hurt."

Rusty turned in his embrace and looked hard at Alex.

"It doesn't happen often," Alex reassured. "I just can't bear it when it does. It's like any business decision that you don't want to make. Like Alisha. I mean, she was stupid, of course, she was stupid and greedy but I didn't want to… And Constantine and Mr Fitzwilliam were _waiting_ for me to sack her… And I never _thought_…"

Sacking Alisha. Alex was comparing that to… Something inside Rusty gave and a little shuddery sigh rippled through him.

"S'OK," Alex soothed. "S'OK. Sleep now."

* * *

Constantine ran a finger over the diamonds and then scooped them into a little velvet bag.

"The boy do alright?"

Tony nodded. "Like a pro, Mr Taylor."

"Good. He ask any awkward questions?"

"Nah. He was sound."

"Good."

The word was dismissive and normally, Tony would take the hint. Not this time, though.

"Something you want to say, Tony?"

"Involving Mr Gallagher… Doesn't it make things complicated?"

Constantine smiled. "Like I said to my brother earlier, if he's around to stay, he's around to stay."

"But if he and Mr Alex…" Tony tailed off delicately.

"Split up?" Constantine gave a shrug. "Well, his relationship with Alex isn't necessarily for life and neither's the day job as a dealer. But I figure the deeper in he gets, the less easy it's going to be for him to leave. And, with apologies to poor Mason, he'll find working for me is all about till death us do part."


	51. Playing the Game

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own them but I'm keeping my eyes open in the January sales.

Chapter Fifty-one: Playing the Game

* * *

Tuesday and Bobby strode with impatience through the early morning crowds at JFK, Alisha's address burning in his pocket. He'd already lost a day on the search because he'd had to deal with some ridiculous report from the Boston office. Someone calling themselves FBI Agent Bobby Caldwell had tried to gain access to the passenger manifest at the airport. Three interviews and finally, a meeting with Hazel Proctor, the unsmiling member of air crew involved who had stared at him hard and shook her head firmly. Bobby had gritted his teeth and got through it all as quickly as possible.

His pager went off and he gave a mild curse at the delay and headed for a payphone.

"_Caldwell."_

"Yes, sir."

"_Where are you?"_

"New York, sir," Bobby began, ready to supply a reason for being there.

"_Get yourself to the Washington office. Now."  
_

"Washing-"

"_Milton Stuart's appeal's been brought forward. It starts tomorrow. Get yourself out there, Caldwell. Clock's ticking."_

The line went dead and Bobby let out a sigh. Christ… Milton Stuart. Kidnap and extortion. He'd worked flat out for eight months to bury him and it had been his evidence that had done the damage.

A line of yellow cabs paraded temptingly in his line of sight and then he turned regretfully away and headed back to the ticket desks.

* * *

It had taken Rusty forever to fall asleep and when he had, the dream had been vivid and awful.

_A restaurant in Rome with indoor fountains and a piano playing and waiters dancing in and out of tables and foliage. One table in the centre, clothed in white linen and decorated with silver cutlery and Ed was sitting there alone and _alive_. Rusty wasn't able to stop the grin of delight as he sat down opposite._

"_Ed!"_

_Oh, Ed… So many things he wanted to say… "Sorry" and "idiot" and "forgive me" and...and..._

_Cool dark eyes stared at him as if he were a stranger._

"_Do I know you?"_

"_It's _me,_ Ed!" he laughed. Ridiculous question. Ed had to be playing._

_Eduardo looked hard at him and he hadn't been able to hold Ed's searching gaze as it burrowed deep beneath the surface. When he looked back, Ed's face was full of distaste and with a click of his fingers, a waiter had been summoned._

"_I'm waiting for my friend Rusty. Please have this person removed."_

_And then arms were round him and he'd been dragged away from the table and however much he'd struggled and fought and writhed, he couldn't get back to Ed. Ed was still at the table but he was out of reach, fading into the distance and no matter what he said, what he shouted, what he screamed, Ed wasn't listening._

He'd woken up, his heart racing, his mouth dry and Ed's name on his lips.

"James!"

Alex. Beside him, arms round him, holding him. For a moment, Rusty nearly shrugged Alex off but he stopped himself in time.

"Just a bad dream," he muttered with a flash of a smile.

"Ed again," Alex murmured, smoothing Rusty's hair back and kissing his forehead.

Yeah. Ed. Again.

"You ever want to talk-"

"Thanks." Rusty cut the offer short. He'd _never_ want to talk.

Alex reacted to the brusqueness. "Well. I'll go use the shower first."

Alex climbed out of bed and James caught his hand and kissed it. Alex smiled and headed to the bathroom. Rusty's eyes fell on the black book, left out of the safe and on the side.

* * *

They were still taking separate elevators to work. As the doors closed, Rusty's head was full of shipment dates and details and he was a thousand miles away from the moment. Which meant that the hand jamming its way into the doors made him physically jump. Damn, he was on edge.

Tony. Constantine. Climbing into the elevator with him. Standing either side of him, shoulder to shoulder.

"Morning, James," Constantine greeted him.

"Good morning, Mr Gallagher," Tony rumbled.

"Morning," he muttered, staring at the doors as they closed for the second time.

He could feel Constantine's eyes on him and he tried to work out why Constantine – maybe an inch taller but Danny's build, for Christ's sake – made him more uneasy than musclebound Tony.

"You did well last night," Constantine said. "We can always use someone with a cool head."

James flashed him a smile, saying nothing and Rusty kept his gaze on the doors and let out a silent prayer to whomever that the elevator wouldn't break down.

A hand fell lightly on to his shoulder, caressing it and shocked, Rusty's head shot round in Constantine's direction.

"Fluff," Constantine smiled lazily and his hand continued the brushing movement.

Brushing. Not caressing. Brushing fluff off his shoulder. Nothing more. _Damn, _he was on edge.

"Thanks," James said tightly.

The elevator came to a halt and Rusty had to force himself not to sprint out on to the street.

* * *

"He seems a little nervous, Mr Taylor," Tony observed.

"Oh, yes," Constantine smiled, his teeth showing.

James Gallagher was proving himself to be competent_ and_ entertaining.

* * *

His head ached with lack of sleep but Rusty forced a smile in place for customers, for colleagues and for Alex who kept shooting him worried little glances.

He managed to call Rick in his lunchhour.

"Let's meet. Tomorrow."

"They stopped following you?"

"I don't know," Rusty said truthfully. "But this is what we're going to do."

* * *

Dinner was in a small Italian place that they'd been to a couple of times before. One of their regular haunts. Rusty sat opposite Alex and James smiled his way through cannelloni and tiramisu.

"I was worried," Alex confessed. "Last night, I mean."

"For me?" James sipped the Chianti. "You don't have to be. I can take care of myself."

"I know. It won't stop me worrying." Serious. Sincere.

Future tense. Because Alex expected him to be working again. Rusty drained the wine and refilled the glass.

"And because…" Alex hesitated. "Because I didn't know how you'd react to…well, to…"

"To the dark side?" James smiled.

"Constantine said…he said…"

Alex stirred his coffee slowly and Rusty waited. He wasn't going to help Alex out. Eventually, Alex lifted his head and looked straight at him.

"Constantine said you'd done something like this before."

James was silent.

"What happened to your friend?" Alex asked softly.

Rusty let a spasm of pain cross James's face.

"When I was young, I got involved with a smuggling operation. Me and a friend made some quick easy money and we got out of our depth. My friend wound up dead."

James stared at the glass of wine, his fingers tight. Alex reached over and took his hand in his and let him grieve the memory.

* * *

Alex looked across the table at sadness and dull pain and he wished they were back in the bedroom because he wanted to kiss away the unhappiness so badly.

_When I was young…_

James must have been straight out of college.

_Me and a friend…_

A friend that he'd cared for. A friend… Alex's mouth opened in sudden realisation.

_My friend wound up dead…_

"It was Ed, wasn't it?" he said involuntarily and James looked at him in horrified startlement. "Oh, James. It was _Ed_."

Edmund Fielding. Friend from college. Someone James had loved deeply and who hadn't returned that love…and Ed was…

"Ed's dead, isn't he?" Alex said.

And the sharp grief in James's eyes was all the answer he needed.

* * *

_**SomeWhere…SomeTime…**_

The two threads of life were visible: parallel and apart and the frown on her face was deep. One thread was pale golden, gradually recovering its colour. The other…

White slime coated it, clung to it, choked it. Burying its way into the surface of the thread and twining deep into the gold. She reached out a hand to wipe it clean and her wrist was caught fast.

"I cannot allow you to do that."

She turned to look at grey eyes that meant every word. At once, she blossomed into blonde curls and rosy cheeks and a seductively simple smile.

"That won't work," he said matter-of-factly as he let her go.

He meant that too and she scowled fiercely at him. She liked getting her own way. She turned and the curls fell away into cloudy wisps as she stared at the two lives.

"You have to let the dice fall," the other told her without a hint of irony.

Yes, but she wanted them to fall differently. She bit her lip and watched and waited.

* * *

Wednesday lunchtime and Rusty sat in the diner, burger and fries in front of him. He really wasn't certain if he was still being tailed. He didn't think he was – Constantine currently had other priorities - but he didn't want to take any chances.

This diner was perfect. For a start, the food was awful and the service worse. That meant that it was never that full. And this table in the corner gave a clear view of the door and the window. It was a good vantage point. More than that, the adjacent table was angled out of sight of most of the diner. Rusty could sit here and be confident that he was in control of the situation.

He could see Rick, for example, walking through the door and ambling towards him, chewing gum, shopping bag in one hand and a newspaper under his arm. Rick took up residence at the ajacent table, his back to the diner, facing Rusty.

"All a bit Man From Uncle, this," was Rick's comment as he sat down, slapping the newspaper onto the table. "You gonna give me a codeword next?"

"Don't tempt me," Rusty muttered. "Look, the important thing is-"

"-low profile, we don't know each other, yada yada yada." Rick snapped the gum, supremely unimpressed.

Rusty risked a fierce look. "I doubt you want to die, Rick. I know I don't. Let's endeavour to keep in good health."

Another snap of the gum and then they broke their gaze as a waitress approached.

"Coffee and a slice of cheesecake," Rick ordered and waited till she'd shuffled away before he nodded at the can of Coke in Rusty's hand. "You sticking to the soft stuff nowadays? Wise move. You can't handle hard liquour."

Rusty opened his mouth to retaliate but was interrupted by his phone ringing. He pulled it out and answered it.

"James Gallagher."

Rick's eyebrows shot up.

"That loverboy?" he stage-whispered.

Rusty's hand shot over the mouthpiece and he glared angrily at Rick who shook his head and smirked.

"Hi, Alex," James said softly, turning away from Rick. "Sorry about that… Nothing special. I'm sitting in a diner with a burger."

Rusty picked up the burger, quite prepared to bite into it for the sake of realism.

"_You on your own?"_

"Yes. I mean no. I mean there are other people with burgers." He kept it light.

"_Oh…" _

There was meaning in the word and Rusty frowned.

"What is it?"

* * *

"_What is it?"  
_

Alex gave a shrug and then realised James couldn't see it.

"I had an accident with my fountain pen. The nib snapped and there was ink everywhere." Alex shot his shirt a rueful glance. "I came up to my room to change and..."

He hesitated.

"_And…?"_

Alex swallowed hard and told the truth. "And I saw the bed and thought of you. I wanted to call you."

There was a pause.

"_Right." _

"I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed last night." The words came out in a rush. "And this morning."

* * *

Last night. And this morning.

"Uh huh." Rusty put the burger back down on the plate.

"_But I guess you can't really say anything." _Reluctant. _  
_

Rusty glanced at Rick busy not looking at him and the smirk was fast developing into a sneer. "That's right."

There was a pause.

"_Still…"_ And Alex's voice grew musingly playful. "_You can _listen_…"_

What the…?

"_You want to know what I'd do if you were here with me right now…?"_

Suddenly horror-struck, Rusty's head shot upright. No…oh, please God,_ no… _

"_James…?"_

"Yeah…" Acknowledging he was still on the line and absolutely, in no way encouraging.

The lack of enthusiasm bypassed Alex.

"_I'd open up the box of truffles and…"_

Rusty clamped the phone to his ear, desperate not to let any of the conversation escape.

"Right," he said tightly.

"…_and when your mouth was-"_

"Uh huh," he broke in but Alex wouldn't be stopped, descriptive and explicit, on and on, and Rusty was looking anywhere but at Rick.

"Alex!" James said, finally breaking the flow of words, possibly more loudly than Rusty had intended. The waitress delivering Rick's order jumped and spilled the coffee. Rusty shot her an apologetic look.

"_Yes…?"_

"Alex," he said again. "Maybe we could pick this up later."

There was a soft laugh in his ear.

"_I'm sorry." _Genuinely apologetic and then adding hesitantly, _"Did I do it wrong?"_

"No, no," James assured him. "It's just a little...frustrating."

"_Not hearing it in person?"_

"You got it."

"_OK." _Alex sounded like he was smiling. _"I'll leave you and your burger in peace. See you later."_

"Yeah." Rusty put the phone away and caught sight of Rick's grin.

"Is he missing you already?" Rick blew a little string of kisses as he dug into the cheesecake.

Rusty took a deep breath and fought down the urge to punch the smugness out of Rick.

"You and I have got some catching up to do," he said, firmly steering the conversation back on track. "Tell me what you've found out."

Rick looked like he badly wanted to carry on with the jibes but he took a sip of coffee, pulled a face and nodded.

"Alright, golden boy." Rick pushed the carrier bag towards him underneath the table. "Have a look at that."

Rusty took a glance inside. A yellow rucksack.

"Is it identical?"

Rick made a scornful noise but Rusty didn't care. The vision of the misshapen lump of clay that Rick had wanted to use for the auction floated through his head. Rick cut corners. Fact.

"_Is_ it?" Blue eyes demanded honesty.

"It's the same," Rick insisted and there was anger and there was truth in there.

"OK," Rusty nodded slowly. "So you could-"

"I can swap out the jewels and the money," Rick cut in.

"Don't get impatient," Rusty warned.

"Why? You enjoying yourself too much?"

Rusty let it go. He had to let it go. Instead he concentrated on the first question.

"We need to make sure that everything's been accounted for. We need to make sure that nothing's left to chance and timing is everything."

Rick lounged back in the chair, said nothing and snapped the gum again and Rusty really hoped he'd got the message.

"For a start, we have to make sure we know the venues for the meets-"

"They're the same," Rick interrupted.

"And you know this how?"

"Twice in Boston, three times in NYC. Same places."

Rusty was shaking his head. "It's not enough to be certain. We have to be certain. And we've got to know the timetable."

"Haven't you got hold of that yet?"

Rusty bit his lip. He was working on it.

"Here are the details of the next shipments." Rusty slid the piece of paper across to Rick. "Drugs, diamonds and guns."

"We can forget about those," Rick said immediately.

"The guns?" Rusty frowned.

"It's impossible. They're delivered in bulk in a container by sea. I went down to the docks and believe me, there's no way we can hijack them."

"There's always a way," Rusty contradicted him.

Rick snorted and his mouth twisted contemptuously. "Well, I guess you'd know."

* * *

Rusty walked slowly back to Larner's, thinking about the docks and the shipment and the impossible. What Rick was forgetting was that it wasn't about the hijacking: it was about crippling the operation, just like Danny had said way back when he'd first pitched this plan. And that meant letting the authorities in on the secret.

* * *

Later and after work and Alex was as good as his word with the truffles. James lapped it all up whilst Rusty's mind was busy thrashing through the finer detail.

Not Bobby. Just in case this all backfired, Rusty didn't want to involve Bobby in a weapons raid. But a carefully worded message…something intriguing enough to make a dedicated lawman want to follow it up…

And he knew just the lawman.


	52. Moving things along

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: oh, they're not mine.

Chapter Fifty-two: Moving things along

* * *

The medics had called in for an unscheduled visit with Danny and Reuben had stepped outside the room to give him some privacy. He sat down on one of the chairs and wished for the umpteenth time that he could light up. Surely hospitals could make allowances.

Danny. He loved that boy so goddamned much. Matt's boy and he could see Matt in him and so much more. If things had gone differently, the Ocean Wave casino would have been handed down from father to son and Danny would have been in line to be King of Vegas. Reuben had no trouble imagining Danny ruling that town.

Vegas needed more men like Danny. Old-school manners, intelligence, charisma and charm. Reuben thought about the Strip and the sharks in suits circling, nostrils twitching for blood, waiting to pick off any owner unfortunate enough to fall overboard. Reuben shivered. There weren't too many of the right kind of guys left.

The door to Danny's room half-opened and Reuben sat up in his chair and then sat back down as the door closed again. Goddamned medics. He glared yet again at the "No smoking" sign. Was it too much to ask for that there was some goddamned news?

Reuben let out a sigh and told himself things _had_ improved. Danny was on the mend and that was good. There was colour back in his cheeks and he was speaking – kind of - and the dark days of nearly death looked to be over. And that meant thinking about next steps.

Carter had found a house to rent not too far away from the hospital and was busy fitting out the bottom floor so that when Danny _did_ get the OK to leave, everything would be waiting for him.

Reuben wondered _who_ would be waiting. He would, naturally, but Carter and Scott had other lives and could only be visitors. And Rusty seemed to be notable by his absence. Funny. Reuben had thought better of him than that. Feelings of vague disappointment and anger drifted through him. Still… Wasn't like Rusty owed Danny any loyalty.

That left…well, that left Rick. Who had already started ducking and diving out of visiting. Reuben's mouth twisted. Reuben had seen the look in Rick's eyes when he'd floated the idea of Danny not making a full recovery. Rick consistently failed to live up to the sort of partner Reuben felt Danny should have. Someone watching his back, who was going to put Danny first... Someone with _honour_.

He thought about Danny, grief-stricken, confronting Willy Bank over the death of his father. He thought about Danny bringing Teresa, this girl from nowhere, to meet him. He thought about Danny ending up in jail because of him and winced as he always did.

Danny deserved the best. And Reuben seriously doubted Rick was anywhere close but with Danny getting better…Rick would be there. Rick would make sure he was there to be the best friend that Danny thought he was.

The door opened again and interrupted his train of thought.

"Mr Tishkoff? Would you like to come in?"

* * *

This was Thursday. The auction was on Saturday. And after the last time, there was a definite edge in the atmosphere behind the scenes at Larner's. It was there in every fierce glare Constantine shot across the dealing floor. It was there in every nervous look that darted across Alex's face. Checks and re-checks on the inventory and on the clients because nothing was going to go wrong this time. Nothing was _allowed _to go wrong this time.

James's workload had stepped up a gear and he wasn't in a position to argue the point.

"Sorry," Jennie said, sounding as if she meant it and handing over another sheaf of paperwork.

"No problem," James smiled and Rusty found himself wishing for Rumpelstiltskin's phone number.

* * *

The doctors had stood over him and talked over him and changed their minds over him. Danny wasn't sure why. Three days ago and they'd told him he had to wait till Monday. Now, they were holding up x-rays and making noises of self-congratulation while Danny looked down at his newly-freed right arm as if it didn't belong to him.

Now the plastercast was off, it felt so light, like it was going to float up off the bed of its own accord. The arm looked thin and wasted and the skin was mottled. Danny didn't want to think about what his legs were going to look like when they were finally out of plaster.

"Have you dealing cards again in no time," Reuben said, smiling encouragingly at him.

Dealing cards. Danny nodded, flexing the muscle gingerly. Or holding a gun.

* * *

Lunchtime and Rusty ignored the suggestion that James might want to spend it with a bag of chips and a can of soda in the staffroom. Jennie's reproachful gaze followed him as he stepped outside. He grabbed a hot dog from a cart and then ducked into a drugstore with a payphone a couple of blocks away. He stepped into the booth and watched the front door as he punched in the number. The ringing seemed to go on forever and then the phone was answered.

"Detective Callahan, please," Rusty said, pitching his voice lower and slower.

A couple of clicks and Callahan's voice came on the line sounding uninterested and as if Callahan would rather be somewhere else. Time to do something about that.

"Detective, am I right in thinking you were investigating the Ocean case?"

He could tell that Callahan was suddenly all ears.

"I got some information for you."

"_Who is this?"_

Rusty smiled. "You can call me Tony."

* * *

Callahan hung up the phone and frowned. Talk about unexpected. Not like he'd forgotten the Ocean case – not like he would _ever_ forget the Ocean case – but he'd moved on. There'd been a stabbing and an arson case and anyway, Agent Caldwell had taken charge of the crime scene of blood and horror.

"_How do I know you're for real?" _he'd asked, demanding proof.

There'd been a long pause and then the words had come, soft and chilling.

"_They took the boy's teeth."_

Callahan had swallowed hard and tried not to think about a mouth sliced wide open. It was a little detail that had been kept out of the public domain. Tony was for real alright.

He stared down at his notepad where he'd scribbled down everything Tony had said. This needed to be actioned. He dug out the phone number for Agent Caldwell and dialled.

"Sorry, Agent Caldwell is uncontactable at the moment. Can I help at all? My name's Felix Heston. I work with him."

The man sounded calm and capable – not unlike Agent Caldwell himself. Callahan took a deep breath.

"I've got a lead that needs to be followed up."

* * *

Early evening and Rick walked back into the hospital, pleased with himself. So much for golden boy dragging his heels. Oh, he could tell he wasn't working with Danny. All this insistence on crossing "i"s and dotting "t"s. No spontaneity. No go with the flow.

He'd swapped out the bag of jewels for a bag of torn up magazines with a top layer of fifty dollar bills. Simple. Straightforward. He'd stashed the jewels and felt the satisfaction that came from a well-executed short con. Success: there was nothing like it.

As he opened the door to Danny's room, Danny smiled at him, wire glinting and said three words that gradually resolved themselves into "Spot the difference".

The smile cracked its way across Rick's face as he realised the plaster was missing. "Hey, hey! On the way back, Danny!"

Things were definitely on the up and up.

* * *

The look on Tony's face when he walked into the office was one that was not often there. If Constantine had been asked to wager how many times he'd seen Tony uncertain, he'd have put it at less than five.

"What is it?" Constantine asked at once, his mind already darting to problems with the auction.

"Lloyd got back from pick up duty. The courier never showed."

Constantine relaxed. "Greedy courier. It happens occasionally. Let Salvatore know."

Tony nodded slowly. "Will do, sir."

Greedy and _stupid_ courier, Constantine thought. Cheating Salvatore had its price.

* * *

Friday was a brisk day. Lots of pre-auction viewing of items and several new pieces being brought in for valuation. It seemed that the general public had a relatively short memory and were willing to forgive Larner's.

James was doing duty on the dealer desks, full of politeness, a perfect Larner's ambassador. Then the next customer sat down in the seat opposite him and James's smile froze on Rusty's face.

"Call this working for a living?" Rick grinned.

Danny. That was Rusty's first thought. And his second was that somehow Constantine and company were on to them. But…Rusty stared at Rick hard. No fear, no worry, no urgent need to communicate, just underlying smugness.

Rusty risked a glance round – Jennie busy with a customer, Alex talking with Tony…Constantine, thank God, nowhere in sight. He leaned forward, his face tight.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing here?" he demanded, his voice low and fierce.

Rick sat back in the chair and the grin grew wider. "Maybe I missed you."

"Get out, Rick," Rusty instructed brusquely.

Rick took no notice.

"Stand up and walk away before-"

Rusty broke off as Jennie's customer stood up and left. Another woman sat down with Jennie and Rusty leaned across the desk again.

"Rick," he said again, earnest and insistent. "Leave. _Now__."_

"Oh, don't get your panties in a twist. We can talk." Rick reached into his jacket pocket and produced the lump of misshapen clay that he'd offered up for the Reverse Susan a lifetime ago. "Give me a valuation on this."

Rick just wasn't getting it. He couldn't see any of the danger and Rusty didn't know how to make him. Reluctantly, he bought time by taking hold of the primitive vase and examining it.

"What do you want?" Rusty asked. "What was so damn important that you couldn't wait?"

Rick sucked his teeth thoughtfully, drawing out the moment and Rusty's fingers tightened on the clay. Eventually, Rick deigned to reply.

"Thought I'd let you know that I've taken matters into my own hands."

Horrified suspicion dawning, Rusty slowly raised his head and looked at Rick. "You've…?"

"Got tired of waiting for you, golden boy, to get out of bed and do something." A look of nonchalant self-pride washed over Rick's face as he casually added, "Swapped out a bag of jewels yesterday."

There were no words. Rusty stared at him.

"It was _easy," _Rick told him, his voice dripping with contempt. "You want to make things so damn complicated."

Of all the arrogant, idiotic… The risk! The stupid, stupid risk where there need be none! Rusty forced himself to take a breath and to keep his voice calm and measured.

"All it takes is for the timing to be out by even a _fraction_ and"-

"Relax," Rick lounged back in the chair. "It's under control."

"That's good to hear."

Alex. They'd been so engrossed that neither of them had realised Alex had drifted into earshot. A beat and then James smiled up at him.

"This gentleman has brought in a piece to be valued."

"You're in good hands," Alex assured Rick. "Mr…?"

"Ryan," Rick said. "Rusty Ryan."

Using his name - his _real _name - like it was nothing. Like it didn't matter. Like this was all some kind of... Rusty's lips tightened as Rick extended his hand and Alex shook it.

"Alex Taylor. Pleased to meet you. Well, James here will make sure that you're looked after, Mr Ryan."

Rick smiled and looked from Alex to Rusty, his eyes hard with scorn. "Good at that, is he?"

Alex shot Rusty an unguarded look of professional pride and personal affection. "Excellent."

"I bet."

Enough.

"I'm sorry but you've been misinformed about this," Rusty said, indicating the clay vase on the desk. "It's not worth anything."

Rick held his gaze expectantly and the frown crept into Rusty's eyes. What the hell…?

"Sir," Rick said softly.

Oh, he couldn't be serious! Point-scoring? With Alex stood there? The anger flashed into Rusty and cooled immediately, like steam hitting ice.

"Sir," James agreed and laughed. "Where are my manners?"

"They cost nothing," Rick smiled. "Well, it's a pity about the vase." He stood up. "Nice to meet you both."

Rusty watched him move away and then before another person could claim his time, James exclaimed for Alex's benefit, "He left the vase!"

Up and after Rick, through the crowded hall and out of the doors and onto the street, his hand firm on Rick's elbow, ignoring the protest and steering him away from the entrance of Larner's and into a side-alley.

"Get your hands off me!" Rick snarled, pulling free and knocking the vase out of Rusty's grasp, dashing it to the ground where it smashed.

For a long moment, the temptation to punch Rick was overwhelming. Rusty could feel his hands bunching into fists, could see his fist burying itself into flesh, could hear the wet, heavy smack of repeated blows to the face... Then logic took over because he seriously doubted Rick wasn't going to retaliate – Rick was _itching _for the verbal sparring to turn physical. And the next step was scrapping on the floor of the alley like he and Danny had at the back of Maria's and going back in to Larner's post-fight would mean explanations and…

No punching Rick.

He settled for "Don't you _ever_ pull a stunt like that again."

Rick gave a short, ugly laugh. "What upset you exactly? Me meeting your little friend in there? He was ready to sing your praises. Your level of service must be so _hot_-"

"He's not my little friend and this is not a fucking _game_!"

They glared at each other.

"These men are killers," Rusty said, his voice cold. "They will not hesitate to hurt, maim and murder. Lose focus for one _second…_ Going maverick is not smart."

Rick's gaze wavered. He gave a grunt and looked away.

"I got tired of waiting for you to come up with the goods, hotshot," he said sulkily.

"Evidently," Rusty snapped and then composed himself. "Don't take unnecessary risks. Just be patient, Rick, I'll find out the schedule and the timings of the pick-ups from our end. Then we'll have the full picture."

Rick's lip curled. "What's the problem there exactly? Can't you just suck more dicks? Or maybe you're bending over for the wrong Mr Taylor. Perhaps you need to climb into bed with Constantine."

Unwillingly, the memory shuddered through Rusty of Constantine's eyes raking their way over his body. He pushed it away with determination.

"Let's just stick to the plan. You don't act without knowing all the facts and you don't compromise everything by turning up at Larner's. Agreed?"

Rick was silent.

"Rick?" Intense. Demanding.

"You hurry up and get on with it. Because _I _want to do Danny's plan justice."

Danny. A beach and night-time confidences. The mind-blowing con on Hemingford Grey. The brilliance. The amazing. It all seemed so long ago.

Rusty ran a hand over his mouth. "How is Danny?"

"I'll tell you how he's _gonna_ be," Rick said at once. "He's gonna be fucking furious that we haven't done more. He'll be fucking fuming that _you_ haven't done more. What's the matter, Rusty? Enjoying yourself too much?" He turned to leave. "Get on with it."

Rusty watched him go and his shoulders sagged slightly.

"_Get on with it."_

Maybe Rick had a point. God knew he wanted to get this over with. He'd have to try harder.

* * *

It had been an exhausting day and Alex hadn't realised how draining it had been until the last customer had left and the doors had shut behind them. He met James's eyes and exchanged a smile of relief. Mind you, tomorrow wasn't going to be any less tense.

"Guess tomorrow's going to be just as busy," James said, echoing his thoughts.

He watched as James stood up and gave a long, lazy, uninhibited stretch and Alex couldn't help but picture muscles rippling under naked skin. He looked round. Jennie and the other Larner's employees had gone home for the night.

"You want to go out for a bite to eat?" Alex murmured, moving closer to blond and effortlessly sexy, his fingers reaching out to brush against the back of James's hand.

"No," James replied, pulling away and closing down his screen.

Disappointment started to course through Alex and then James turned to face him, moving closer into his personal space, blue eyes smouldering, and Alex could _feel _the electric charge arcing between them.

"No," James said again and this time it was deliberate like there was a plan. "What I thought was we could go and pick up some food and then head upstairs and eat it. What do you think?"

Alex thought it sounded…mmm…

* * *

Pizza. Alex had never eaten pizza naked before and he'd never fed it to anyone naked before. But as he watched long strings of mozzerella disappear and smears of tomato sauce were licked up off skin, as he looked at the shiny grease on James's lips and the way James's tongue worked to claim every last crumb, Alex vowed fervently it wasn't going to be the last time. As foreplay went…

Eventually, the pizza had all gone. Alex reached under a pillow and found a box of truffles.

"Dessert," James nodded, eyes gleaming.

Later and James was lying in his arms and the tension of the day was long forgotten. Alex kissed James's hair fondly. James shifted round and gazed up at him.

"So tell me a little more about Larner's."

"What do you want to know?" Alex kissed his hair again.

There was a half-shrug. "How does it all fit together? The auction side and the _other _side. It must be awfully complicated. I'm not sure I understand it."

"Maybe you don't need to understand it." Alex traced James's cheekbones and jawline with his fingertips and enjoyed the little shiver that ran through James. Then James caught his hand and kissed his palm.

"Please. I want to try. For you. For _us."_

Us. Alex's heart leapt. So James was thinking about an us too. Something long-term, something more than a temporary arrangement. He leaned up on one elbow, his fingers continuing to stroke, to caress, to claim.

"Alright. Let me see if I can explain."


	53. Welcome

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: I didn't create the boys.

A/N: for Zaira who was kind enough to ask, *waves*, for otherhawk (who never has to) and for anyone else still followng this. I'm _hoping _to update more regularly now "The Benedict Job" is finished. :)

Chapter Fifty-three: Welcome

* * *

It was dawnlight. Saturday. Danny had woken up feeling a little lost and a little empty and he wasn't sure why. There'd been no nightmare that he could remember. When they came, they were technicolour and close-up and he was powerless to stop the violence and violation and it was all terrifyingly real.

No. No nightmare.

In fact, his waking thoughts had been of Rusty.

…_that first meeting in front of Doug Quentin, looking at insouciance and beneath the devil-may-care, the edge of _something…

_…getting to know the magic and the intelligence and the fire that flourished underneath the grace and the beauty and Danny had never_ felt_ so alive…_

_…the beach and their mutual promise to keep in touch when faced with the impossible…_

_…Rusty staying with him through near-death…Rusty, here in the hospital with him and conversations without words…Rusty…Rusty…_

Rusty hadn't been anywhere near him for days. Weeks. Oh, there'd been that text to Carter about wanting time on his own. Danny understood that grief affected people in different ways. But if their roles had been reversed…well, he'd have stayed with Rusty, willing him to get well again, _wanting_ him to get well again so that vengeance could be theirs.

It hurt. He didn't want to admit it but it hurt. Like going on a date with someone amazing that you thought you really connected with and then they didn't get in touch. Rusty hadn't called him. Rusty hadn't texted him. Rusty hadn't asked after him. Danny's chin lifted a little. He sure as fuck wasn't going to call Rusty.

* * *

It was early. Rusty lay in Alex's arms and stared at the ceiling, his mind drifting.

Three months ago and he and Ed had been in Vienna and Ed had been waltzing with a fat dowager duchess while he himself swapped the paste pearls for the real thing.

Three months ago and Ed had been alive.

Three months ago and he'd never heard of Danny Ocean.

Three months ago and he hadn't been caught up in this…this…

"Morning," Alex murmured sleepily.

"Morning," James smiled up at him and the act began again.

* * *

Felix Heston buttered some toast and thought about the call from the cop in Vermont. There was no need to trouble Bobby with this lead on the Ocean case, Felix decided. Callahan had been all things serious and keen down the phone and Felix had made plenty of notes.

No. Bobby had enough on his plate with Milton Stuart. Felix would look into this. Who knew? By the time Bobby came back to the department, maybe there'd be a breakthrough.

This guy, Tony, had said the shipment was arriving on Thursday. Felix picked up the phone, made a few calls and pulled in a few favours. He sat back in his chair, satisfied. If the information was faulty, there'd be no harm done. And if the information was sound…

* * *

Carter looked round at his handiwork. The groundfloor now functioned as a self-contained flat. A kitchen, a bathroom, a toilet, a bed and a living area. A little cramped in places, maybe, but perfectly functional, perfectly serviceable.

Reuben had called and told him that Danny's arm was out of plaster and that his legs were due to follow suit on Monday. That meant Danny could leave the hospital and Carter knew _he_ would be desperate to do so. He'd redoubled his efforts to give Danny a breath of freedom and independence.

There was another reason he was burying himself in the work. With a sigh, he pulled out his phone and looked for the text message that wasn't there. Rusty hadn't been in touch since he'd told Carter not to worry, that he needed time on his own.

But Carter _did_ worry. This was both Saul Bloom's boy and also Rusty Ryan, brilliant and intuitive and capable of magic and there were two reasons in one right there to want him safe.

And it wasn't like there wasn't precedent. Rusty had seen death up close before and it had been personal and he'd gone it alone. Carter could still remember the feeling of horror creeping through him as he realised Rusty had disappeared from Fat Joe's in search of vengeance. Really, was there any reason he wouldn't do so again?

The answer came to him as quickly as the question. Danny. Rusty was planning revenge but he was waiting for Danny to heal. Rusty might have been insistent that Carter not get involved with this but he'd said that he was waiting for Danny. As long as Carter made sure Danny was getting better as fast as he could, then Rusty wouldn't get impatient and foolish and reckless.

Regretfully, Carter put his phone away. Next week was six weeks. Carter was certain they'd hear from Rusty then.

* * *

Rusty stood at the side of the packed hall, watching the Saturday auction unfold. Alex was behind the auctioneer, supervising the porters as they brought the lots on stage. Constantine and Tony were opposite him, scanning the crowd, looking for trouble.

There was no trouble to be found. Everything was running smoothly. And why wouldn't it be? No leech, no interference, no con…(_no Ed, no Danny…)_

Rusty dragged his thoughts back to the moment and let his gaze drift around the room, casually studying the audience. He thought he had it now.

Here in the room were the men who had money to launder. Rocco and half a dozen or more. Constantine dealt with them. That ledger that Constantine had been so quick to hide? Had to be a record of the money in and the source. Further down the line and far away from Larner's, Rocco and co would be accountable for their contribution.

Alex's black book was all about the other line of illegality: the movement of goods inward and outward, sitting alongside the record of the legitimate purchases. A slick operation run by the Taylor brothers and supported by Tony.

Tony was in charge of the courier pick-ups. Rusty's eyes lingered on him as he stood at Constantine's side. Right-hand man. Enforcer. Someone he needed to get closer to.

* * *

"Feels weird, I bet," Elaine observed, plumping up the pillows behind Danny. "I remember breaking my ankle when I was a kid. Ended up with plaster all the way up to my knee. And when that came off, it felt like my leg was lifting off the ground like it was attached to balloons."

Danny nodded.

"It's going to get weirder," Elaine continued sympathetically as she handed him a lemon drink with a straw. "Your other casts come off on Monday and you're going to have one hell of a recuperation period. Don't try and do everything at once, Danny. We'll schedule you some time in the hospital pool. Shallow end. Spot of hydrotherapy should do wonders to help build your muscles up."

Somewhere Danny could hear Rick making a comment about Speedos.

* * *

Post-auction and by some miracle, Rusty had avoided Alex and ended up in the auction hall with Tony, tidying up.

"Glad that's over," James smiled, stacking a row of chairs.

"Yeah." Said with feeling.

"Any news on Wes?"

Tony put down the stack of chairs he was carrying and sighed.

"It's not looking good. He's still out of it. I called in with Mr Constantine yesterday and…" Tony paused and looked like he was struggling with the words. "And there were all these wires and tubes…"

The image of Danny lying comatose and pale floated through Rusty's head. James nodded sympathetically.

"Sounds like you're close."

"S'pose we are," Tony admitted gruffly. "There's five guys I work with and they're stand-up guys."

Rusty reeled them off in his head: the late Mason, Wes, Nelson, Lloyd and Brady.

"We've had some adventures together," Tony chuckled and Rusty hated him impossibly more. "They're all cool heads in a tight spot. Well, Nelson has his moments…"

"_A man named Nelson took Teresa upstairs."_

"He can get a bit carried away sometimes. Lloyd, on the other hand, he's very good at following orders. He's very thorough."

_Taking teeth as trophies._ Nausea rose up within Rusty.

"You OK?" Tony frowned.

"Fine," Rusty lied.

Tony nodded slowly and then went on, "Brady's good at recon. Observation. Detail."

_Brady with the tattoos. Following him and making even his limited sanctuary violate, stopping him from seeing Danny._

"Wes and Mason? Tough. Guy could throw a hundred punches at them and they'd still be standing."

And then they'd throw the punches back again. _Wes and Mason working Danny over. Danny fighting futilely. Ed walking in on it all and not standing a _chance_._

"You're sure you're OK?"

"Sure." Rusty blinked hard. "They sound great."

The sarcasm flowed over the top of Tony's head.

"Yeah." Pride and affection.

"Davey too?" Wondering. Testing.

Tony made a vowelless noise that was full of scorn. "Davey has his uses."

Not Davey. Davey wasn't part of the gang.

The conversation was flowing so smoothly and it was on his lips to ask about the courier schedule. He could feel Rick urging him on, he wasn't too sure _Danny_ wouldn't be urging him on. But instinct held the question back. It would be clumsy and obvious and he was neither of those things. Besides. Courtesy of Tony, he now had other indirect lines of enquiry.

* * *

Lloyd was working out the back with some of the others, packaging up the shipments. With immense difficulty, Rusty kept his gaze away from the earring with the teeth.

"You need a hand?" James offered brightly.

"Thanks," Lloyd grunted. "More people, the better."

Ten minutes and the crates were loaded and labelled and Lloyd clapped a hand on James's shoulder.

"You want, you can join us in the bar. Me and some of the lads are heading over there."

A few drinks, a loose tongue and answers to casual questions. The answer had to be yes.

* * *

"Hey," Alex smiled as James walked back into the empty hall. "All tidy again."

"Do you always show up when the work's finished?" James teased and then smiled back. "Auction was a success."

"_Yes. _I was holding my breath till the very last item," Alex confessed. "Shall we go somewhere nice to celebrate?" He looked at James and added quickly, "Or we can stay in again. I don't mind."

He didn't. If last night was a measure, he might never want to go out again.

"Going out would be nice," James told him. "I'll go make sure everything's shut down on my desk."

Alex watched him leave and frowned. He'd come to know James's face so well. He'd seen the flicker of hesitation when he'd suggested going out. And that wasn't going to be about spending time with him so it had to be about…about the money. Alex's brow cleared. Damn. Ever since he'd got a better idea of James's circumstances, he'd tried so hard always to pick up the tab wherever they went but somehow James still managed to pay his way.

Pride. Alex could understand that. Even though it was stupid and meaningless when he, Alex, was rich enough to look after both of them. James, living in that _room_… And OK, it wasn't a hovel but it was hardly…

Alex's thoughts stopped dead in their tracks.

* * *

With a degree of irrationality that surprised him, Rusty resented the change of plan. He wanted to follow through the conversation with Lloyd and then maybe, maybe have some time to himself. Seemed there was precious little of that these days. Alex seemed like he couldn't get enough of James. He shook himself. He ought to be pleased. It meant he'd done a good job. Succeeded. Made James irresistible.

They'd walked past the bar on the corner and Rusty had shot a regretful glance through the window at the group from Larner's before James turned a dazzling smile in Alex's direction and walking with him to the French restaurant.

Later and James smiled across the restaurant table at Alex and Rusty didn't want to think about easy it was getting to wear James like a second skin.

"James, we get on OK, don't we?"

Inside, Rusty frowned. He could hear the underlying hesitation and he didn't understand it. Where was this going?

Popping a piece of bread in his mouth, James looked up under his lashes. "I'd say so."

"James, don't take this the wrong way." Alex's words fell out of him in a rush. "But I've been thinking how stupid it is that you're paying out for that hotel. I mean a lot of nights, you're not even staying there."

Oh…_that _was where this was going. Rusty exploded into coughs.

"Bread…" he wheezed. "Went down the wrong way. 'Scuse me."

Rusty left a startled and concerned Alex and disappeared into the men's room. It was empty, thank God. He pulled out his phone and his fingertips hovered, ready to dial Danny's number.

Damn it, he would. He punched in the digits. All this was going to take some explaining and he wasn't even sure what he was going to say but he _needed_ to find the words, because enough was enough and this wasn't weakness, it _wasn't, _he wasn't seeking absolution and he wasn't asking for Danny to save him (_was he?)_ but Danny needed to know what was-

"Hello?"

Rusty blinked.

"Hello?" Again and there was impatience and a little anger and the next step was the line going dead.

"Hello, Rick," Rusty said at last. "I was looking for Danny."

"Danny can't come to the phone," Rick said shortly. "What is it, hotshot?"

Rusty screwed his eyes shut and thought about not sharing. Reluctantly, he decided that Rick had to know.

"I think Alex is about to ask me to move in with him."

There was silence. A long, long silence. And then…

"Well, you'd better do what you think is right. I gotta go."

* * *

Alex half-stood up as James walked back to the table.

"You OK?"

"Fine, fine," James reassured with a smile.

Alex caught hold of James's hand impulsively and the predicted words fell out of him. "I was about to say…move in with me?"

Rusty's thoughts tumbled through him like coloured glass in a kaleidoscope.

Move in with Alex. Work at Larner's, live at Larner's. 24/7. Move in with Alex and by default with Constantine, Tony, Lloyd… Move in and suffocate with the cloying and the inescapable…

* * *

**_SomeWhere…SomeTime…_**

The roulette wheel was spinning and the silver ball was racing round the edge of it.

Silver eyes followed its progress.

The ball dropped.

* * *

Move in and be truly on the inside. Free access to the inside track, the black book, the heart of operations. Move in and live underneath the surface.

Rusty took a breath and then James looked at Alex with fondness and a smile.

"I'd love to."

* * *

"There we go," Elaine pushed the wheelchair carrying Danny back through the doors of his room.

Rick looked up from his paper. "That pool look good? Any hot babes?"

"Mrs McIntyre," Elaine told him. "Eighty if she's a day." She pulled back the covers on Danny's bed.

"Thanks, Elaine," Danny murmured through his wired jaws. The tour down to the pool had been her suggestion, impromptu and spontaneous and he'd been grateful. Time out of the room and recovery felt that bit closer.

"Here, let me help you." Rick's arms were around his body and lifting him back into the bed.

"Did I miss anything?" Danny tried to smile. Damn wires wouldn't let him.

There was a pause and then a snort. "Like what? Liberace calling?"

* * *

Packing up the hotel room took even less time than Rusty had anticipated. He always travelled light and so had James Gallagher. A holdall and a couple of suit carriers and James gave a waiting Alex a smile.

"That's me done," James said softly.

Back at Larner's, Tony saw them step out of the elevator and looked at the baggage James was carrying without saying a word. Rusty felt Tony's eyes following them as they walked down the corridor.

Alex opened the door to the suite and looked at him fondly. "Welcome home…"

* * *

Sunday morning. It was Sunday and he'd almost lost count of the number of days since James had walked back into Alex's life. Days of living dangerously. Days of playing this game.

Once again, Rusty lay wide-awake in Alex's arms as he had done so many times before and stared at the ceiling. This _had_ to be the right move. It was going to open up even more doors and that was sensible. A practical thing to do because what would Alex have said if he'd refused? Rusty could see the look of hurt and rejection that Alex would unsuccessfully try to hide. The distance in the relationship that would set him back, that he would need to close...

No. It was right and sensible and it shouldn't feel so fucking-

The door opened and Rusty started, waking Alex. They both sat up in bed. Constantine was stood in the doorway, dressed in a green silk dressing-gown.

"Damn it, Constantine!" Alex snapped. "Can't you knock? We could have been…" He tailed off, flushing, his arms tightening around Rusty.

Constantine's lips twitched. "Were you?"

Without waiting for an answer, he moved further into the room, nudging the holdall on the floor with his toe.

"I see you've moved in, James."

"Yes. He has," Alex told him defiantly. "Don't even think of-"

"So," Constantine cut across him, "I came to invite you to breakfast. My place. Fifteen minutes."

* * *

Constantine had dressed by the time they arrived at his suite. Lloyd was waiting with him.

"James. Why don't you and Lloyd go and grab us some coffee and pastries?" Constantine brandished a couple of twenty dollar bills. "There's a shop a block over that I really rate."

James glanced at Alex and then took the money with a smile. "Of course."

Constantine waited until the door had closed behind them before turning to Alex.

"Can I ask how much you know about the young man you've invited to live with us? Apart from the fact that he is obviously a fantastic fuck."

His voice was calm and civilised and dangerous and another time, maybe Alex would have picked up on that. As it was, Alex was full of the scowl and defensive.

"See, this is why I didn't talk it over with you first. I _knew_ you'd-"

"How _much_?" Constantine rapped out with a snarl and that got Alex's attention.

Alex was silent for a moment. Then he said in a low voice, "I know he's the most amazing man. He's beautiful, intelligent… He's funny and sexy and tender and loving. I know he cares for me. I know I want him in my life."

Constantine's mouth twisted. "You know nothing."

"I-"

"Start thinking with a different part of your body, Alex," Constantine snapped. "James living here throws the spotlight on _us_."

"I don't see why," Alex muttered sulkily.

Constantine bared his teeth. "Let me explain."

* * *

Out on the streets and Rusty was taking advantage of the time with Lloyd.

"Sorry I couldn't make it to the bar last night," James apologised.

Lloyd grinned. "You should be sorry. It was a good night."

"That's what it's like at Larner's, right? Work hard, play hard."

"Oh, yeah. I remember a few weeks back, Tony and me and the boys got back from a job in Vermont and we hit the town. Can't even remember getting to bed that night."

Somewhere there was howling and pain and fury. Rusty kept the smile on James's face.

"Tony speaks very highly of you. You help him with the pick-ups, don't you?"

"The couriers? Yeah," Lloyd nodded. "S'usually me or Brady. We get some travel time in."

"Straightforward enough, though?"

"Sure, sure. It goes like this…"

* * *

"Luckily for you, one of us is thinking clearly. I've looked into his background," Constantine said. "As far as he goes, James Gallagher checks out."

"Well, of course he does-"

"Alex! Haven't you been listening?"

"Haven't _you?_" Alex glared at him. "This man is special to me, Constantine. Get used to him being around."

There was a knock on the door and the conversation was put on hold as breakfast arrived.

* * *

As they ate and drank, Constantine was polite and civil and Rusty's senses were on high alert. Something was coming; he just wasn't sure what.

"Alex, you should run along and get James sorted with an entry key and an elevator card," Constantine suggested.

Alex looked as if he really didn't want to leave but the look Constantine was giving him didn't leave much room for discussion.

"I'll be right back," Alex promised as he left.

"My brother," Constantine smiled at Rusty. "He worries too much."

James smiled back at Constantine. "I'm sure he doesn't need to."

The smile dropped away from Constantine's face and he leaned forward, his eyes on Rusty's. "You remember the conversation we had? About Alex?"

As if Rusty could forget. He nodded.

"Good. Well, now things are getting a little more serious, aren't they, James? Moving in. That's a big step. You want to tell me you're ready for it?"

"I'm ready for it," James shot back.

"This is where you want to be."

"Yes-"

"Alex is the person you want to be with."

"Yes-"

Constantine's eyes were gimlet-sharp. "You are not going to hurt him."

Rusty looked at him and delivered the truthlies straight.

"I want to get as close as possible to Alex. I want us to have the sort of relationship where he feels he can tell me anything and everything. And believe me, Constantine, James Gallagher is never going to do _anything _to jeopardise what he has with your brother."

"Alright, James." Constantine sat back, apparently satisfied. The smile was back on his face. "In which case, welcome to the family."


	54. Outside

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: did not create 'em. Just enjoy sitting round thinking up the pain and torment. Oh, wait. That's not me _either…_

A/N: Thanks as always to otherhawk for the pre-read. _  
_

A/N: Maia? Think I lied about what was next to update. Sorry. :)

Chapter Fifty-four: Outside

* * *

Water ran over Danny's body. Wonderful, warm water trickled over his body as he sat naked on the chair in the wet-room, holding the showerhead and guiding the jets of water down himself.

The catheter had been removed and he was keeping the water away from the dressing and away from his still-wired jaws but there was still the feeling of _fresh _and _clean _and Danny revelled in it.

He looked down at his legs. Monday and they were out of plaster and they didn't seem to belong to him any more than his arm had. The flesh was shrivelled and dry and the muscle wasted and they didn't look like they would bear his weight any time soon.

An orderly had lifted him out of the wheelchair to put him in here and when the man had left him to it, the very first thing Danny had done was get to his feet. Almost at once, his legs had buckled and it was only by chance that he'd landed squarely on the sturdy plastic chair rather than the tiles.

Well, he could do something about that. Elaine and his physiotherapists had drawn up a programme of recovery and exercise and Danny was determined to make it work. After all, he had drawn up his own plan of action.

* * *

Reuben was sat in his room, chatting to Elaine, when the orderly delivered Danny back again. When he saw Danny, Reuben's face lit up in a happy smile like a gambler whose slot machine had thrown up three bells in a neat line.

"And here's the man himself," Elaine smiled.

"You OK, Danny? Doctor's going to come and sign you out. You ready to get out of here?"

Was he _ever_.

Elaine studied him thoughtfully and then tilted her head on one side. "So did you try to stand up?"

The question was quick and sharp and unexpected and Danny's face betrayed him.

"That's what I thought," Elaine sighed. "And do you believe me now that it's going to take time?"

"We'll get there, won't we, Danny? Been looking at what they got lined up for you." Reuben held up a sheet of paper. "After this, I'm entering you for the New York Marathon."

Elaine laughed and then her face turned serious again. "You need to follow this plan, Danny. Don't try to-"

"-walk before I can run," Danny finished with an impatient nod. He ran a hand over his beard. "When are they going to get this metal out of my face?"

The words were thick and heavy and now that the plaster casts were stripped away, Danny wanted nothing more than to wrench the wiring from his jaw and be done.

"Not yet," Elaine said firmly. "Another week. Ten days. The doctor will come and tell you himself before you go." She must have caught the gleam in his eyes that was all about a pair of wire-cutters because she went on, "If you try and do this yourself, you're going to ruin everything, Danny. You hear me? _Every_thing."

"He knows, Elaine, he knows," Reuben said hurriedly. "_Don't _you, Danny?"

They were both looking at him, both waiting for acknowledgement and promise. Reluctantly, he gave both with a nod.

"Right," Reuben said briskly. "Let's get you packed up."

There wasn't much to pack up but Elaine had left them to it and Danny thought that was probably the point. He looked down at the new dressing-gown and slippers that he was wearing and then watched Reuben fussing round the bed and not meeting his eyes.

"I haven't got a toothbrush," he told him. "You can stop hunting."

Reuben paused and looked at him.

"What is it?" Danny asked quietly.

Silence.

"_Reuben."_

Reuben exhaled and sat down heavily on the bed.

"When I got that call to say what had happened, I think I must have aged thirty years already. And when I came and _saw _you… Just lying there, broken and beaten and…"

Reuben's hand reached out blindly and Danny gripped it.

"Danny, you only just got better and I don't want you to go kill yourself. Please." Low and raw and already knowing that there was no way Danny was going to go along with what Reuben was asking. "I don't want you rushing in headlong and…"

Reuben tailed off and Danny knew he was thinking about Willy Bank. About Danny confronting the man he held responsible for killing his father. All sound and fury and emotion and Danny could still feel the rage burning through him. Well, he'd been a kid. Things were different now. His face said as much.

Reuben's eyes were full of worry. "You'd better know what you're doing."

"I'm going to be very careful," Danny said. "Very precise. No one is going to get hurt except the bad guys."

There was truth in his voice because he believed and he saw the worry ebb a little.

"I'm not going to do anything stupid," Danny promised.

He wasn't. Stupidity wasn't part of the plan.

* * *

They'd said a temporary farewell to Elaine – _"Not the last you're seeing of me, Danny Ocean. You come back for your physio or I will come and get you." – _and an ambulance had taken them to the house where Carter was waiting with a welcoming smile as Reuben wheeled him in.

"Good to see you, Danny," Carter smiled. "Let me give you the guided tour."

Carter had done an amazing job. Danny saw Reuben nodding happily and shooting needless little glances in Danny's direction to check that Danny was as impressed as he was with everything.

"It's great, Carter. _Thank _you," Danny said sincerely. He could see the thought and kindness that had gone into the work. He nodded his head in the direction of the stairs. "Guest bedrooms up there, right?"

"You thinking of going into the hotel business?" Reuben grinned.

"You'd be the first to know," Danny told him firmly, smiling. "No, I meant for Rick or whoever."

The glance between Carter and Reuben wasn't even close to being casual.

"You have told Rick about this place?" Danny checked.

"Rick knows what's happening," Reuben said shortly. "If he doesn't want to be here, then he doesn't want to be here."

And that was a dig about the fact that Rick wasn't at his bedside 24/7. Danny's eyes were sharp. "You have given him the address?"

Reuben didn't even try to lie. "Danny, he's been ducking out of visiting you at the slightest opportunity-"

"Rick's my partner-"

"Yes, and you'd never treat him like he treats you!"

"-and _you _don't get to decide different!" Danny finished fiercely.

Danny's fingers had already found his phone and were punching in Rick's number. He couldn't be sure any voicemail he left would be intelligible. Text. He looked up when he'd finished and his eyes said that the question of Rick was closed.

* * *

Rusty's head ached. Alex had been demanding and the morning at Larner's had been busy and he didn't know what to make of the looks that Constantine had been shooting in his direction. The last thing he wanted was this meeting with Rick but it was necessary and he needed to grit his teeth and get through it.

Rick's phone buzzed as the waitress put Rick's coffee down on the table and Rusty watched as Rick read the text without comment. Was that about Danny? Rusty's mouth tightened imperceptibly. Not like Rick was going to share.

Rick grunted to himself and tucked the cellphone away in his jacket and stirred his coffee. "So you two been picking out curtains? You want a house-warming gift?"

Rusty ignored it just like he had the hundred other times.

"You paying attention, Rick? We got a lot to get through."

"Anxious to hurry back to your little lovenest? Someone didn't get enough time in the sack this morning."

God, this was so fucking _draining. _

"Here are the courier movements for the next two weeks." Rusty pushed them discreetly across the table. "And you need-"

"Yeah, I'll get to them," Rick said dismissively.

"And you need to know how this _works_," Rusty retorted, a flash of very real anger in his eyes and his voice.

"Then get on with it, hotshot." Rick sipped the coffee and pulled a face.

As good as he was going to get.

"Right. To begin with, the meets are held at the same venue-"

"I told _you_ that-"

"Fucking _listen!_" Hissed and accompanied by ice-blue authoritative.

Rick sat back with a sulky expression.

Fuck. He _hated _losing control. It felt like weakness and he wasn't weak. And how many times had Rick provoked him? How many times would Rick continue to dig and challenge? He needed to be smarter than this. Rusty ran his fingers over his mouth, composed himself and then began again, his voice calm and clear.

"The meets are held at the same venue for three months at a time. They're due to switch again next week."

The assurance slipped away from Rick as he shifted in his chair and said nothing. It looked like Rusty at last had his attention.

"There's no phone call or communication. The pick-up guy hits the diner an hour after the plane is due to land and looks for the yellow rucksack. The two of them don't talk, they don't look at each other, they don't do _any_thing except finish their coffees and pick up each other's bag. Which is pretty much what you saw."

Rick nodded slowly and the self-satisfaction was back again like it had never been away. _"Told you" _was written all over his face.

"The point is the timing, Rick. There's a window of maybe five to fifteen minutes to act. When you swapped out the jewels, you were lucky."

"Well, next time I'll be better informed. You got the new places for the meets?"

"No, but I'll get them."

Rick scanned the list of forward dates. "Looks like they're revving up. Plenty going on here."

He looked at Rusty.

"Looks like I'm going to be kept busy." There was grumble and complaint in his voice. "You have any idea how much money I'm burning flying around the place?"

As if money mattered like that. Money was a facilitator, money was how the take was measured, how the game was played but money didn't matter. There was more than enough of it to go round.

"I'm sure the airmiles make up for it," Rusty said, letting the complete lack of sympathy show.

Rick was silent for a moment then continued, "It's time away from Danny as well. Time when I should be at his bedside. Time when he needs me."

Danny. Rusty's gaze flickered.

"You know…" Rick went on and there was a distinctly malicious edge to his tone, "it's what partners are all about."

* * *

It was early evening by the time Rick got to Danny. Carter and Reuben were there and there was Chinese takeout on the table and a glass of gloopy milkshake in front of Danny.

"Haven't you had enough of those yet?" Rick asked, his nose wrinkling.

"They're growing on me," Danny said.

Rick glanced round at the living quarters. It would do, he supposed. Functional. Basic. Hardly five star.

"Where have you been?" Reuben demanded.

Rick shot him a cool look. He wasn't about to explain himself. He didn't _have _to explain himself. He yawned instead without covering his mouth and sat down next to Danny then grabbed a fork and dug into the chow mein.

"Good to see you up and about," Rick smiled at Danny. "In a manner of speaking."

Danny nodded and there was a faint sheen of exhaustion in his face. Like the time they'd turned over Barry Watson and deadlines had shifted and there'd simply been no time to rest.

"You look tired," Rick said softly. "Busy day, huh?"

Peripherally, he saw the guilty start in both Carter and Reuben and he turned pointedly to look at them. "Bet you're about to leave."

* * *

They'd left.

Danny looked like he was about to fall asleep where he sat. He smiled tiredly at Rick. Bed soon, Rick decided and he saw Danny nod agreement.

"You can sleep upstairs," Danny told Rick.

"You sure you don't want me to cuddle you?" Rick asked, finishing the last of the noodles.

"That an offer?"

Rick snorted and nearly choked on the noodles.

"Won't take long before you're better," he said, waving the fork generally at Danny. "And then…"

And then. Rick hesitated, the words bubbling under and then spilling out of him.

"We could get away, Danny. Go somewhere we've never been. Rest up and you can heal properly. Then when you're well again – really well – we can start over. Cons and jobs and all those great ideas of yours… Danny, we can _fly_ again…"

They could go. Walk away and leave this all behind. Leave _Rusty_ behind. Rusty would never know what had happened. The golden hotshot would be left high and dry, whoring himself out and wondering why Rick never answered his calls. Rick thought about the expression on Rusty's face and smiled to himself. It was a happy, happy thought until he looked at Danny.

"Danny…" The happiness was starting to wisp away.

"We're not going _any_where," Danny said and he was frowning and staring at Rick as if he'd spoken in another language.

Right. Revenge. And yeah, yeah, that was important, of course it was. Just that now he'd thought about it, he liked the idea of cutting Rusty out.

"I want you safe," Rick said to Danny and it wasn't a lie and Danny's face relaxed.

"Had that conversation with Reuben earlier," Danny told him, running a hand through his hair and then adding earnestly, "as soon as I can, we're going after them."

"Sure, Danny, sure," Rick said placatingly. "We'll nail them."

Danny slumped back argument won, and Rick thought that he really did look tired. He needed rest and taking care of.

"Rusty hasn't…" Danny broke off and studied his fingers.

It was out of nowhere and there was some sort of emotion in there that Rick couldn't quite pinpoint. Some sort of hurt. Some sort of anger.

"Rusty hasn't been anywhere near you," Rick finished. "Yeah. I told you, Danny, he's bad news. Got to think that maybe he reckons he's got better places to be."

Pain flashed onto Danny's face and off again.

"Maybe," he said so softly that Rick almost didn't catch it and his head was still bent and he still wasn't looking at Rick. "Maybe. But we do this, with or without Rusty."

Without Rusty. Oh, Rick liked the sound of that. And if Danny _should_ find out about what Rusty had been up to all this time, Rick doubted that Danny was going to approve. Then again, if Rusty should mention _his_ involvement… Well. Rick could flat out deny it. He knew which side Danny would come down on.

"With or without," Rick agreed and smiled brightly and Danny raised his head and his eyes were smiling at the determination in Rick's voice. "With or without."


	55. Visit

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own 'em.

A/N: yes, yes. Poor neglected fic. *guilty author* Thanks as always to otherhawk for the preread.

Chapter Fifty-five: Visit

* * *

Danny stared down at the text message.

"_Rusty. I'm out of hospital. Call me."_

He'd woken up with vague nightmare dread clinging to him and the desperate need to see Rusty eating through his core being. Grabbing his phone, he'd typed the words urgently and his finger had hovered over the_ "Send"_ button but then he'd stopped himself. Reined in his instinct.

He'd meant what he'd said to Rick the previous evening. He wasn't going to run after Rusty and he wasn't going to beg. For who knew how many years, he'd managed without Rusty in his life and he wasn't going to behave ridiculously over someone he'd met barely two months ago. _(Just because that someone was…)_

Enough.

Blinking hard, he hit delete.

* * *

Rusty had offered to fetch breakfast. He'd needed out so badly and even if he was just walking the streets, it felt like freedom. Now, he was nearly back at Larner's and his steps automatically slowed. He gritted his teeth. Weakness. He couldn't allow himself to give into it, not even for a moment, because if he stopped and thought… Rusty swallowed. Not even for a moment. He quickened his pace.

The limo with the tinted windows was a new addition to the side-street outside Larner's. It sat with an air of importance all to itself. Rusty frowned at it. Something out of the ordinary.

Something _else_ out of the ordinary was that there was no one waiting to greet him as he stepped out of the elevator. Rusty's fingers tightened on the bag of bagels as he padded carefully down to Alex's suite. There was no sign of a struggle, no sign of violence but _some_thing…

Alex wasn't where he had left him. Rusty stared at the bed. Where…?

A cautious knock at Constantine's door and it was opened by a man he'd never seen before. A suited, booted man who gave him a once-over that reminded him of Ox, a lifetime ago with Tommy Reiss.

"You're new," the man rumbled.

"James?"

Alex's voice from within, sounding strained and concerned and relieved all at the same time.

"You OK, Alex?" Rusty called and he wasn't quite sure what he was going to do if the answer was "No" but he was almost certain it was what James would have asked.

"He's good." Constantine. "Let him in."

The suit stood aside and Rusty walked in to the room to see Alex and Constantine, still in their dressing-gowns with Tony and a man in a three-piece suit. Grey hair. Fifties. And very much in charge. Mr Fitzwilliam. Had to be.

"James..." Mr Fitzwilliam's voice carried authority. Like Carter's did. Impressing without trying and gaining respect without asking for it. "James Gallagher. You're Alisha's replacement."

Alex made a slight squeak of a noise at exactly the same time as Constantine said, "Yes, Mr Fitzwilliam. And James has also proved useful to the operation in other ways."

"Indeed," Mr Fitzwilliam smiled. His eyes fell on the bagels. "I can see that."

There was an element of dismissal in his tone and Rusty saw Alex bridle and then bite back on whatever he was going to say. Apparently fear of Mr Fitzwilliam outweighed loyalty to James. Mr Fitzwilliam turned to Constantine, physically cutting Rusty out of the conversation.

"So, it's good to hear that the auction went well. After the last time. I thought I'd call in to congratulate you personally on regaining control, Constantine. It would be nice to see the inventory paperwork…? When you're dressed, maybe?"

"I could take care of that for you, Mr Taylor," James said softly. "If you'd like me to."

There was silence as if no one could quite believe that he'd spoken. Then Mr Fitzwilliam turned back to him, re-evaluating him.

"Thank you, James," Mr Fitzwilliam said, answering on Constantine's behalf. "We can start now."

* * *

The bathroom was big enough to take a wheelchair. Carter had ripped out the bath and put in a shower with controls that were easily within reach. The mirror, though, was above the washbasin and to look into that, Danny had to pull himself carefully upright and grip the rim of the sink.

He was looking into it now. At a man whose life had been turned upside down all over again. Only this time…this time was the worst. His arms and upper body were marked and by the time the wires were out of his jaws and this beard disappeared, Danny was willing to be there'd be scars aplenty.

There were scars enough in the eyes that were looking back at him. Things he'd seen and borne witness to that he'd never forget and never forgive. His fingers clutched at the porcelain as the images of Teresa and Eduardo, maimed and tortured, floated through his head.

"I promise," he whispered blindly to his reflection.

He sat back down carefully in the wheelchair and headed out to the main living area. Rick hadn't surfaced yet but that was OK. Danny could look after himself when it came to finding a milkshake in the fridge. But before that, he was going to start working flat out on the physio programme the hospital had provided.

Revenge. It was a terrific motivator.

* * *

By the time Constantine and Alex had dressed and rejoined them in the main office, James had just finished going through the official auction papers with Mr Fitzwilliam.

Mr Fitzwilliam had paid close attention to what James said and even closer attention to James himself. Rusty felt as if he were under a whole new level of scrutiny. He concentrated on keeping James focused and soft-spoken and competent.

It seemed to work. As the Taylor brothers arrived, both of them anxious about him in different respects, Mr Fitzwilliam was nodding with some kind of approval. Rusty took one look at Constantine's face and decided to step out of the way.

"If you'll excuse me, Mr Fitzwilliam, it's time I went down to the auction house," James murmured.

"A very thorough overview, James. Thank you. Constantine, perhaps you could take me through the financials?"

* * *

Alex watched James walk away and his heart was racing as it so often did at the sight. This, though, was all about the Mr Fitzwilliam-inspired adrenaline thumping through him. He would swear that the mere mention of the man's name was enough to make him sweat.

This morning had started off so nicely. He'd woken up almost the same time as James and he'd insisted on kissing James's neck and running his fingers over James's shoulders. This relationship wasn't all about sex. It was the little intimate touches that Alex enjoyed bestowing. He wanted to relax James. To offer him security and tenderness first and foremost. Then, when he was completely comfortable, completely secure, Alex could reciprocate some of the mind-blowing. He couldn't stop imagining the look on James's face when he finally let himself go and came. This was a two-way relationship and he wanted James to understand that.

Yes, the morning had begun with kisses and stroking and then James had suggested he run out for breakfast and Alex had told him to hurry back. With James gone, Alex had lain back and fantasised about smooth golden skin and heart-stoppingly blue eyes and a mouth that was made for sin. Right up to the moment when there was a loud knock and Tony had told him that Mr Fitzwilliam had arrived.

Mr Fitzwilliam was better than a cold shower any day of the week. His presence had been demanded immediately and he'd hurriedly pulled pyjamas on and a dressing gown and gone to find his brother.

The visit was unexpected and Alex could see how little Constantine liked it. Presumably, Mr Fitzwilliam could see that as well and presumably, that was the point. They were to be kept on their toes.

When James had reappeared and offered to take Mr Fitzwilliam through the auction, Alex could _feel_ the anxiety rolling off Constantine. Sure enough, when they were left alone, the first and only thing Constantine said to him was:

"He'd better not screw up."

However, it seemed that James had done a good job which was a relief. And Constantine was in full flow, giving the moneys in and out and Mr Fitzwilliam was almost smiling.

The tension seeped out of Alex's shoulders. Things were going well.

* * *

Scratching the back of his head, Rick yawned and stumbled down the stairs. He'd slept heavy. Must be all the running round. He found Danny, sheened in sweat and lying on the floor and suddenly he was wide-awake.

"You OK?" he asked, hurrying to Danny's side. "Did you fall over? You should have called me."

"I'm fine," Danny told him. "Exercising."

Rick looked at him doubtfully. "How are you planning to get upright?"

"I'll find a way."

"Sure you will." Rick offered him a hand and helped him up into a chair. "You had breakfast?"

"Thought I'd wait for you in case you wanted to share."

"The gloopy stuff?" Rick wrinkled his nose. "You're on your own there."

He padded off to the kitchen and inspected the fridge. Apart from Danny's food there was just the basics. Milk, bread, butter and a jar of peanut butter. His mouth twisted. He hated peanut butter.

"You thought about what you want to do today?" he called through as he buttered some bread.

"Yeah."

Well, that sounded definite. Good. He was looking forward to spending a little time with Danny.

He wandered back through with a banana milkshake. "So what are we up to? We going bowling?"

Danny's face was deadly serious. "I want to see-"

The knock on the door made them both start.

"Reuben?" Rick wondered aloud. "Carter, maybe."

Danny's eyes held a sudden _maybe_ of a different nature and Rick thought about the name Danny hadn't said and he could taste the bile of anxiety. For a long second, he wanted to suggest not answering the door but the knock came again and that really wasn't a long-term solution.

With a heavy heart, he headed over to the door and opened it only to find himself staring at a man he'd never seen before and a badge.

"Agent Felix Heston. The hospital gave me this address for Mr Ocean. May I come in?"

* * *

Heston took the cup of coffee from Rick and thanked him.

"We don't have any biscuits," Rick said with a hint of the sullen and was rewarded with a smile.

"That's OK. It's a little early for me to hit the sweet stuff."

Danny saw Rick bite back for once on the retort – probably because of the badge – and slump down in a chair, arms folded. Heston turned his attention to Danny.

"I really appreciate you seeing me, Mr Ocean. I do understand that you are still recovering but I wanted to pick up with you about what happened. I've got Agent Caldwell's early interview notes but to be honest, they're a little light on detail."

Danny just bet they were. Bobby would have done his best to keep things as vague as possible.

"So, can you take me through events, Mr Ocean?"

"Afraid I don't remember too much," Danny said and he deliberately slurred the words, making the most of the wire still in his mouth.

Heston gave him a sympathetic nod. He seemed warm and friendly and exuded efficiency and that was good and worrying all at the same time. "You want to share what you do know? Let's start at the beginning. You were home."

He'd been at home. He'd been at home with Teresa and Felicity and all hell had broken loose.

"I was having a coffee with…with Teresa. And Eduardo," he added as an afterthought. Somewhere along the line he'd heard and understood the story Bobby had spun to protect Felicity. "And I was by the window when this van pulled up and these men got out."

"How many?"

Six. Six men. Six men he dreamed of, often and violently.

"Five…five or six. No one I knew."

"Can you describe them?" Heston asked quickly.

"Average height. Average build." Danny shook his head. "They didn't look like they were up to any good."

"Because…?"

Danny's fingers knotted together. "Instinct, I guess," he whispered. "You know I was in prison."

Heston nodded.

"You get a feel for things," Danny said softly. "The way things are going to go down. I pushed Teresa into the cupboard under the stairs."

"Yes. We found her coffee cup in there. Mr di Costa…"

"Eduardo wouldn't save himself." He wouldn't. And maybe Tony and the boys wouldn't have left him alone but Eduardo wouldn't even _try._

The silence stretched out and Heston broke it.

"So, you felt the men were up to no good and you tried to protect your wife. And the men came into the house…"

Danny screwed his eyes shut and it was a long moment before he could go on. "They started…they… Teresa. They _hurt_her. They… And Eduardo. They wouldn't stop."

"Did they say who they were?"

Yes. "No."

"Did they say why they were there?"

Yes. "No."

"They gave you no indication as to what they wanted?"

Yes. "No."

"They just started in on you all?"

Yes. Yes. Yes.

"They…" Danny took a deep breath. "It felt like they'd made a mistake. They acted like we should _know_ why they were there."

Heston looked at him thoughtfully. "Interesting…"

"Danny's answered enough of your questions," Rick interrupted the interrogation.

"Of course," Heston agreed. "I don't want to tire you out. Is there anything else you can remember?"

All of it. Live and technicolour. Nelson on top of Teresa, one hand wrapped in her hair… Lloyd cutting Eduardo's mouth wide open…

"S'all blurry." Danny's voice was thick with pain and it wasn't anything to do with the wire in his mouth.

Heston looked at him hard as if trying to work out whether or not any of this was faked. Eventually, he drained his coffee cup and smiled.

"Well, we're still investigating who did this, Mr Ocean, but I think you should know we're following up a lead."

"A lead?" Danny said urgently. "What sort of lead?"

Heston immediately became official. "I don't want to say anything at this point in time, Mr Ocean, but please be assured that as soon as we have news, we will be in touch."

It was final, closing the conversation, and Danny's shoulders sagged a little.

"I'll be on my way." Heston got to his feet and handed Danny his card. "Unless there's anything you want to ask me?"

Danny's eyes brightened. "Actually…"

* * *

Both Teresa and Eduardo were still on ice. Heston had made a call and now Rick was pushing Danny's wheelchair in through the double doors where Heston and a technician was waiting.

At a gesture from Heston, the technician pulled out a metal drawer and Rick found himself staring down at the white sheet with the body underneath. Teresa. His eyes squeezed shut. If he tried, if he really concentrated, he could still see and feel and smell her. Still remember how good she felt with her legs wrapped round him, how soft her lips were, how smooth her skin was. He couldn't believe she was dead.

He glanced down at Danny, suddenly wondering if he'd given anything away in his face. Danny was smart at reading people, after all. He needn't have worried because Danny only had eyes for Teresa. With a deep breath, Danny reached out a hand and pulled back the sheet.

Teresa lay serenely like she was asleep. Whatever the bastards had done, they hadn't really touched her face. She looked like one kiss and she'd wake up. Danny stared at her for the longest time and then reached out and his fingers brushed the very edges of her hair.

One thing was for certain: Rick had had to insist on the wheelchair and now he was glad he had. He didn't think Danny would have been able to stand upright.

Danny pulled his hand away and offered up a gruff "Thank you" to the Fed.

Heston cleared his throat. "You thinking about arrangements?"

Arrangements sounded like a euphemism that Rick ought to understand but didn't. Seemed like Danny did though.

"I get this wire out of my mouth next Monday morning. I want to lay her to rest on Monday afternoon."

* * *

Reuben was walking away from the front door as they arrived back at the house. Words of greeting died away as he saw the strain on Danny's face.

"Went to see Teresa," Danny said jerkily in response to the unspoken question.

Ouch. Reuben's face grimaced in sympathy. He still didn't want to think of that poor kid dead. God knew she'd had a rough enough start to life. Gently, he reached out and squeezed Danny's shoulder. There were no words to comfort only gestures. Danny reached up and grabbed his hand.

There was a loud cough from Rick and Reuben acknowledged him for the first time.

"Danny's had a day of it," Rick said pointedly.

Reuben's teeth set. Rick didn't get any easier to like.

"Let's get you inside, then," Reuben said lightly.

* * *

Rick had gone out for groceries and Reuben had made himself a cup of coffee and sat down with Danny. And Danny enjoyed the company and the companionship but he could tell something was wrong: he just wasn't sure what. He sensed that Reuben wanted to say _some_thing but coming right out and saying it was an issue. Every time Danny tried to ask him, Reuben would launch into another story about the old days or some escapade that he'd gotten up to with Danny's dad or stories about the least successful attempts to rob Las Vegas casinos. He resigned himself to not pushing too hard. Reuben just needed the right moment.

"So, you saw Teresa," Reuben said at last.

"Yeah."

It had been as awful as he'd thought it would be but he'd needed to. Teresa hadn't been far from his waking and sleeping mind over the long weeks of healing and like he'd started to say to Rick this morning, seeing her was top of his list of priorities.

"And you're healing OK."

"Yeah…" Danny frowned. "I'm doing fine."

Reuben studied his coffee cup and when he spoke again, it was so quiet that Danny had to strain to hear.

"I've got to go back to Vegas."

"Everything alright?"

"I spoke to Dominic. The Xanadu's got a couple of issues that need ironing out. Nothing too much. Just that I need to be there."

Danny's frown deepened. "Then you need to be there. What's the…" Light dawned. "Oh, Reuben…you don't need to worry about leaving _me_."

Reuben gave a half-shrug of guilt. "I want to be here for you. I don't want you on your own, Danny."

Danny shook his head and smiled. "I'm hardly on my own. I've got Rick."

Reuben didn't seem to hear him. "I'd hoped that by now Rusty would have…but he hasn't…I want you to have people around you who are going to look out for you."

"_Rick_ will-"

"Rick's never-"

The door opened and they both fell silent as Rick walked back in with bags of shopping. He looked from one to the other.

"Rick's back," Rick pointed out.

* * *

He'd gone out for provisions and by the time he returned, Reuben looked like he was getting cosy, reminiscing and, judging by the tailend of the conversation he'd caught as he walked back in, no doubt bitching about him. Reuben _really_ didn't like him.

"Staying for lunch?" Rick asked, knowing the answer and not waiting for it. "I'll cook something up."

He took himself off to the kitchen and pulled out tins and packets. He didn't want to hang around down Memory Lane, especially when he himself didn't own a house there.

* * *

Guilt was eating at Danny. He hadn't even thought about Vegas calling. Alright, if there were good managers and experienced teams in place, then hotels would run themselves for a while. There came a point, though, when decisions needed to be taken, when all the autonomy in the world wasn't enough.

"I'll be back as soon as I-"

"You take all the time you need," Danny insisted.

He held Reuben's gaze until Reuben slowly nodded. Good. Reuben didn't need permission but if he wanted it, he could have it.

Rick brought in a meal of hotdogs and microwave fries for Reuben and himself together with a pink milkshake for Danny. Danny swore that if he didn't see another milkshake after this, it wouldn't be too soon. Mind you, the way Reuben was studying the fries suggested he wouldn't be ordering them again in a hurry.

"Danny wants to bury Teresa next Monday," Rick said out of nowhere.

"You're going to need help to sort that out," Reuben said immediately.

Danny could see at once where that was headed.

"I'll call Carter," he said simply, cutting that debate off before it started.

"Alright," Reuben said eventually, adding the solemn promise, "I'll be back."

Rick snorted. "You sound like the Terminator." He stared down at Reuben's abandoned fries. "You not eating those?"

* * *

Mr Fitzwilliam had spent the day at Larner's both on the auction house floor and behind the scenes. James was needed at the dealers desks but Rusty had the opportunity to note with interest how the Taylors acted around the man. Constantine was definitely on edge, however much he tried to hide it.

Alex wasn't even _bothering_ to hide it. Rusty could almost feel the waves of nerves rolling off him. No doubt Mr Fitzwilliam could as well.

"I'm going to stay for dinner," Mr Fitzwilliam announced within Rusty's earshot as James dealt with a customer.

"Of course," Constantine nodded. "We insist."

"Lyle's in town. I've suggested he join us," Mr Fitzwilliam murmured and glancing up, Rusty saw Constantine's mouth tighten and Alex swallow hard.

"Of course," Constantine said again and Rusty could hear that he really wanted to tell Lyle to take a running jump.

Five o'clock came soon enough and as James slipped away from his desk and out through the front doors, heading for the side-elevator, he found Alex waiting for him. Alex pulled him down the same side-alley where he had nearly punched Rick. Alex wrapped his arms round him immediately.

"Hey, hey," James said soothingly. "It's OK."

Alex broke free and admitted. "I've wanted to do that all day."

"Mr Fitzwilliam, huh?"

"He's just… Oh, James, I get so anxious something's going to go wrong when he's here. After that auction with the phony Dollar – even before that auction…"

Alex was trembling and James took his hands in his.

"It's alright," James said firmly. "Nothing's going to go wrong."

"You don't know what it's like," Alex said in a low voice. "It's _dangerous_. A couple of years ago there was this man, Hewett, and he messed up so badly. The authorities got involved and Mr Fitzwilliam was questioned…" Alex broke off. "Hewett just disappeared overnight."

"What happened to him?" Rusty asked, mostly because it was expected of James, partly out of his own curiosity.

"There were rumours." Alex hesitated then went on, "Mr Fitzwilliam owns these hothouses. He grows orchids and other exotic plants.""

Rusty blinked. What did the man do? Cultivate his victims to death?

James smiled. "You telling me he feeds people to a giant Venus flytrap?"

Alex wasn't smiling back. "Little bit at a time."

Huh.

"Come on," James said, leading him back to the main street. "I promise I'll stock up on weed-killer."

Alex laughed and caught up his hand and kissed it. "You make me feel so much better," he said sincerely.

"Feeling's mutual," Rusty lied.

"Good evening, Alex." The voice came out of nowhere. "Someone you want me to introduce me to?"

"Lyle!" Alex dropped Rusty's hand like it was on fire. "This is…this is James Gallagher. He works at Larner's. He's a-a friend."

"Really." Lyle's eyes were gleaming with pleasure at Alex's discomfort. "Friend with benefits, Alex?"

The streetlight showed the flush rising slowly in Alex's cheeks.

"Shall we go on up?" James murmured.

* * *

It took all of an elevator ride with a few more little digs at Alex for Rusty to understand that keen-eyed, sandy-haired Lyle enjoyed powerplay as much as Constantine did.

The elevator doors opened to Tony who escorted the three of them to the boardroom where Mr Fitzwilliam and Constantine were stood talking.

"Mr Fitzwilliam. Constantine."

"Lyle."

Impossible not to see the tension arcing across the room between Lyle and Constantine.

"Lyle. Good to see you again," Mr Fitzwilliam smiled.

They were all smiles, in fact, Rusty noticed, looking round the men. Confident and aggressive Constantine and Lyle, nervous Alex and Mr Fitzwilliam, watching all the gameplay unfold.

"Dinner in the Bronx, I think," Mr Fitzwilliam said decisively. "I fancy Italian."

Alex flicked an awkward glance in Rusty's direction and James gave him a minute shake of the head. He wasn't expecting a dinner invitation. Lyle had other ideas.

"Is James joining us?" Lyle asked and Mr Fitzwilliam's eyebrows raised slightly. "Only he and Alex seem rather close. Or have I misunderstood the situation, Alex?"

Challenging. Trouble-making. Leaving Alex to teeter between disavowing his boyfriend or offering up a vulnerability for Lyle to probe further. There was a mostly suppressed grunt of anger from Constantine and Rusty watched Alex blanch and then blush before raising his head high.

"James and I are dating," he said clearly.

Mr Fitzwilliam turned his gaze keenly on Rusty again and Rusty concentrated on keeping James's stance open and relaxed and full of _nothing to be ashamed of_. Peripherally, he was conscious of Constantine's glare, Lyle's smirk and Alex, biting his lip.

Maybe Mr Fitzwilliam saw it all too.

"Then I think James should join us," he invited.

* * *

Dinner was a minefield: pasta on top and barbs underneath.

"I heard that a couple of your men ran into a little trouble," Lyle said, in between bites of lasagne.

"Trouble?" Mr Fitzwilliam asked, taking a sip of Chianti.

Constantine's smile was tight. "Someone foolish enough to imagine they can challenge the established way of things."

"That must be awkward for you," Lyle offered empty sympathy.

"Nothing I can't handle."

"You sound very sure."

"Oh, I am, Lyle. People who take me on soon find they are out of their depth and I have no inclination to throw them a lifeline. It takes a brave man or an idiot to think that's a smart situation to be in."

Rusty thought Constantine had a point.

Mr Fitzwilliam chuckled. "Cabaret with our meal, gentlemen. Par for the course, James, this little bit of banter. The boys do enjoy themselves so."

The meal continued and Rusty did his best to keep James affable and charming, passing neutral comment on neutral issues and not commenting on the rest, refusing to rise to any of the bait that Lyle threw in his direction. He didn't need to antagonise Constantine or worry Alex by having James react.

The unexpected side-effect of not providing Lyle with ammunition and keeping Constantine and Alex happy, was that Rusty could _feel_ James growing in Mr Fitzwilliam's estimation. Evidently the man approved of someone who could hold his own in Lyle and Constantine's company.

"Very nice to meet you, James," Mr Fitzwilliam said as they stood up to leave. "I hope to see you again soon." He turned to Lyle. "Can we drop you at the airport, Lyle?"

* * *

Mr Fitzwilliam and his muscle took Lyle away and Tony took the three of them back to Larner's. Constantine was quiet all the way up to his suite and Rusty could see him brooding, trying to slice up the visit and work out whether he'd done enough to hold position as far as Mr Fitzwilliam was concerned. Constantine gave a grunt of _goodnight_ and disappeared.

"Well done," Alex whispered as they finally stepped through the door of their suite. "You were wonderful."

James smiled. "I don't think I did anything special. But I'm glad you think so."

"Believe me," Alex told him fervently, "I know what I'm talking about it. Lyle just thrives on those kind of occasions. You handled him brilliantly. Constantine won't say anything but I know he's pleased."

Pleasing Constantine. That was always a good thing.

"As long as you're OK," James said tenderly. "I know you were on edge."

Alex nodded and the relief was dripping from him. "Now I feel like flying." He seized Rusty's hand. "I want to celebrate."

* * *

It was late. After Reuben had gone, Danny had put in a call to Carter and then he'd spent the rest of the day putting himself through the sheet of physio that the hospital had given him.

Now, Danny was spark out and Rick had manhandled him carefully into his bed. No point in waking him back up again.

As he straightened up, his eye fell on Danny's phone. Rick thought about the other day with Rusty phoning Danny directly and how _that_ conversation might have gone down. Almost without thought, he picked up the phone and pocketed it: there was no need for Danny to be disturbed.


	56. Invitation

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: didn't create 'em

Chapter Fifty-six: Invitation

* * *

It was Wednesday morning and Rick lay in bed and studied Danny's phone. It hadn't rung and that was a good thing. Meant Golden Boy wasn't trying to make contact with Danny. Meant Golden Boy was lying in the bed he'd made and taking it like a man. Rick smiled to himself and shook his head. Fucking faggot.

He looked at the phone again. Maybe he could just delete Rusty out of existence. Idly, he scanned through the menus and then stopped and sat bolt upright. There was a draft of a text message that made him catch his breath.

"_Rusty. I'm out of hospital. Call me."_

Recent. Had to be. Frantically, Rick scrolled through the outbox and the inbox looking for communication. Stupid of him not to put it past Golden Boy to try texting Danny.

There was nothing and Rick let out a cautious sigh of relief. Still. There was the drafted text and that was enough. He frowned. Danny hadn't actually _sent _it but the intention was clear enough. Damn it. After that conversation with Danny about cutting Rusty out of things, he'd kind of hoped he could keep them apart. Although it wouldn't necessarily be all bad if they did meet up. He remembered the look on Danny's face the first time Rusty had slept with Alex. This time…well, this time there'd be revulsion and disgust and Danny would know for certain the cheap little whore Rusty was.

The text glared up at him. He could wipe it. In fact, he could just wipe the whole phone and dump it in the garbage and get Rusty the hell out of their lives. That was _really_ tempting. For a long moment, Rick thought about how good that would feel.

No. Regretfully, no. If Rusty tried to get in touch, Rick wanted to know about it. Besides, if Rusty didn't get any answer, he might just try Carter. Rick had to keep the phone. But if he did, there was always the off-chance that Danny might find it. Somehow. Danny was like that. And Rick could probably manage that moment – _"I meant to tell you I'd found it" _– but he couldn't stop Danny reclaiming the phone and that text message needed to be on there.

Well, there was another way to make sure Danny couldn't reach Golden Boy. Rick flicked through the address book and found the entry that said _Eduardo _and renamed it _Rusty _then repeated the action in reverse_._ Danny wouldn't realise. Eduardo wasn't going to answer. Texts would get no response. Communication would be non-existent.

Just the way Rick liked it.

* * *

It was still early but Constantine was dressed and in his office, sipping black coffee and scanning the newspaper headlines. Yesterday's surprise visit had been less than pleasant. Constantine liked things under his control and being caught out by Mr Fitzwilliam whilst wearing a green silk dressing gown didn't qualify as anything close.

Bad enough that Mr Fitzwilliam should visit but then Lyle had joined the party with all his little digs.

"_Not many Italian restaurants in Colombia, Constantine. And nowhere to ring up for takeout. Even if you _could_ get a phone signal. Still, there's something to be said for a simpler lifestyle, right?"_

There was fuck all to be said for a simpler lifestyle. Constantine had run back to civilisation with his arms open wide.

"_I'm sure, Lyle, you could go and find out firsthand."_

He'd wanted to spit the words across the table but he'd managed to bury his fingernails into his palm and settle for saying them with silky menace. Mr Fitzwilliam had just smiled. The old devil liked playing them off one against the other.

His phone rang, breaking into his thoughts, and he checked the display. Speaking of the devil...

"Good morning, Mr Fitzwilliam." He kept his voice strong but respectful. "I trust you returned home safely."

"Yes, indeed, Constantine. I wanted to thank you for your hospitality."

"My pleasure, sir."

"I don't doubt it." Constantine could hear the amusement in Mr Fitzwilliam's voice. "And I also wanted to tell you what I thought about James Gallagher."

Constantine found himself holding his breath. If his little brother's boyfriend had messed up…

"I am very impressed with him. He is a real credit to Larner's. To _both_ sides of Larner's."

Constantine relaxed. Good. Good.

"I'm pleased to hear that, Mr Fitzwilliam. James is certainly settling in well here."

"I made a point of telling Lyle that I felt James was a valuable addition to the team and how well I felt you'd recovered the ground you'd let slip."

Constantine grinned to himself.

"Something we didn't really get a chance to touch on last night, Constantine. This unpleasantness."

Wes and Mason. The smile slipped away from Constantine's face.

"I'd really like these things settled amicably," Mr Fitzwilliam went on and there was silence that Constantine was in no hurry to fill.

"However," Mr Fitzwilliam continued when it was very obvious that Constantine was going to say nothing, "on occasion, it is necessary to meet violence with violence."

Sanction. Sanction to retaliate.

"Yes, Mr Fitzwilliam," Constantine said at once.

"Don't let things go too far," Mr Fitzwilliam said by way of warning. "I'll speak to you soon."

The line went dead and Constantine considered Mr Fitzwilliam's words. Not too far. So Trey was out as a target but Trey's men were within scope. He looked up as Tony respectfully entered the room with the morning's post.

"I want you to up the efforts to find Trey's men," he instructed. "The longer we let this drag on, the softer Trey will think us."

Tony nodded. "I'll push harder, Mr Taylor."

"Good." One of the envelopes caught his eye and tearing it open, he scanned its contents then nodded to himself. "Find James for me, would you, Tony?"

* * *

Wednesday morning was starting off with much less drama than Tuesday's visit as far as Rusty was concerned. He'd kissed Alex goodbye and headed out, bumping into Lloyd in the corridor as he did so.

"Hi, James."

"Hi." Rusty's eyes were drawn inexorably to the earring with the teeth and he forced himself to focus on Lloyd's face. "You alright?"

"Yeah. Just been going over the new pick-up points with Brady. We've got a busy time coming up."

"Really?" James was immediately interested. "Where are you headed?"

The new knowledge burned through Rusty as he walked across the floor to the dealers' desks. He'd need to contact Rick at lunchtime and let him know the new meets. Right now, he had to focus on being charming and competent as James.

However, Rusty had hardly had time for James to pass pleasantries with Jennie at the next desk when the summons came. Upstairs, he found Constantine in his office, behind his desk, reading some paperwork.

"Come in, James. Take a seat."

"Thank you, Mr Taylor."

"Interesting evening last night," Constantine said.

That was an understatement.

"You handled it well. I had a call from Mr Fitzwilliam this morning saying that he was impressed by you. Well done."

That was…that was good… James gave a vague smile but there was nothing more forthcoming. The conversation seemed to be over and Rusty pushed back the chair, sensing dismissal.

The second he got to his feet, Constantine said, "I've got your results."

For a moment, Rusty didn't understand and then he realised. God, that trip to Constantine's tame doctor seemed a lifetime ago.

"You're clean," Constantine told him.

"I told you that," Rusty said with an involuntary spark of anger.

Constantine's lips tightened and Rusty allowed the flush of rage to die away, offering up instead an expression on James's face that did its best to combine _cowed_ and _mutinous. _

Mr Fitzwilliam's approval was obviously still at the forefront of Constantine's mind.

"Still," Constantine went on, "it provides reassurance. I'm sure Alex will want to celebrate."

Rusty barely held on to the shudder and he prayed Constantine wouldn't notice.

"Something wrong, James?"

Yeah. Some hope. He thought quickly.

"It's just…you mentioned it was Alex's birthday on Friday and to be honest, I haven't had chance to go shopping for a present for him."

Constantine stared at him for a long moment then nodded. "I can see how that might be difficult. Take the morning off. I'll square it with the team downstairs."

"Thank you, Mr Taylor."

"Please. Call me Constantine in private. After all, we're practically related."

* * *

It had taken all of Rusty's reserves to keep James's mask plastered on his face until he was outside of Larner's and buried in the crowds. Related to Constantine? What the _fuck?_

Rusty leaned back against Bloomingdales' window and drew in a deep, shuddery breath. Alright. He couldn't think about that. He couldn't think about any of it. He had to divorce himself from it all and focus. He wanted Constantine to trust him, right? He wanted to be on the inside and close to the heart of operations. That was the whole reason he'd come back and cuddled up to Alex, after all. Focus. That was what he needed to do.

He pulled out his phone and dialled Rick's number. It took a long moment before the call was answered and when Rick did speak, Rusty was hardly able to hear him.

"You OK?" Rusty asked, his voice matching Rick's volume.

Rusty's instincts were alive. In his head he was thinking of a hundred different other occasions of danger when a ringing phone would have been a disaster of the fatal kind.

He needn't have worried.

"I'm fine," Rick hissed. "What do you want?"

"I've got the new locations. We could meet up-"

"Just give them to me now. Unless you're otherwise engaged."

It was Rick. It was Rick and it didn't matter. None of it mattered. Rusty repeated it to himself like a mantra. He gave Rick the information and heard the grunts of concentration the other end of the phone as Rick scribbled the details down.

"We still need to meet," Rusty said abruptly and it was definitely about keeping the channels open and about communication and a hundred other things. Nothing else.

There was silence at the other end and for one awful moment, Rusty thought Rick was going to refuse but then he heard a grudging "Alright."

"First thing next Tuesday, say nine o'clock?" Rusty said quickly and his words were falling over themselves. "I can get it as a day off and we can meet at the same diner."

"It's a date, hotshot.

"How's-?"

The line went dead and Rusty stood, gripping the phone tightly, ignoring the shoppers surrounding him and cursing himself. Cursing himself for starting to ask Rick _again _about Danny because Rick really wasn't going to share. And cursing himself for the fear that had risen up in him: just for a second, he'd thought that Rick wasn't going to agree to meet him and he already felt so fucking _alone. _

But that hadn't happened. He was going to meet up with Rick. The plan still held.

Rusty let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and went into the department store.

* * *

Rick scowled at the phone. He didn't feel like leaving Danny at all at present. Danny needed him. Reuben had fucked off to Vegas apparently. Scott was like some fairweather friend who blew in and out of Danny's life. And it wasn't like Danny really even _knew_ Carter. Danny needed him and Rick needed to be here.

On the other hand, he couldn't resist seeing Rusty for a little R and R: a few gibes, cracking a few jokes at Golden Boy's expense…he enjoyed walking away from those encounters knowing he'd scored points.

Well, Tuesday was the day after the funeral. Reuben would be back, for sure. And maybe the others too. That gave him cover enough to make it to New York for a morning. There was a pick-up scheduled for Tuesday afternoon in New York too. He could keep this plan on track and avoid any awkward questions plus Danny would have company.

He walked back down the stairs, deep in thought and found Danny leaning up against a chair, clutching its back like his life depended on it.

"Who phoned?" Danny panted.

Rick laughed as the answer bubbled up inside him. "Loose-living blond asking me out."

"She got the wrong number, right?" Danny grinned and then his face cramped with pain.

"Danny, you gotta take it easy," Rick insisted, helping him sit down. "No good putting yourself flat on your back again."

Danny gave a slow nod. "I'll rest up for a bit."

* * *

Rusty returned to Larner's with a small neatly wrapped present courtesy of a very helpful shop assistant. Inspiration had been hard to come by. What _did_ you buy your pretend boyfriend who had money enough for anything he wanted? Nothing too serious, nothing too impersonal… No jewellery and no socks. He hoped he'd got the balance right.

"Hi, James." Jennie beamed at him. "Constantine said you had to go uptown for something. You get what you needed?"

"Yes, thanks," James smiled and refused to elaborate as he put the present in his desk drawer.

"James!" Alex hurried over and his eyes were alight with…with fondness, Rusty guessed.

Jennie's lips twitched and Rusty realised that the relationship between Alex and himself might just be more public than he'd realised. Damn. He was always so careful to keep James the right side of respectful and professional.

"Hi," James acknowledged.

Alex's gaze flickered over to Jennie who was studiously intent on her computer screen.

"Everything alright?" Alex murmured. "Tony said that Constantine asked for you and then you went out and-"

"Everything's fine," James reassured him. Rusty wasn't about to go into details. "Everything's fine."

* * *

Danny was asleep in his room when the knock came at the front door. Rick looked up from the football game with a frown and then killed the TV with a sigh and ambled over.

It was Carter. Golden Boy's pal. The one who liked taking charge.

"Hi, Rick." Dismissive. Like he wasn't worth more than a brief pleasantry.

Carter started to move forward, to step into the house but Rick kept his place in the doorway.

"What do you want, Carter?" he asked brusquely.

Carter stopped and stared at him, surprise written all over his face. Rick watched as the surprise was swallowed.

"I wanted to speak to Danny about Teresa's funeral." Carter's voice was calm and controlled. Just like….

Rick's gaze was cool. "Danny's sleeping."

"Oh, well, I could-"

"I don't think he should be disturbed."

"No. Of course-"

"He needs his rest."

Carter was silent and Rick watched with quiet satisfaction as the man's mouth tightened.

"Maybe you could phone him," Rick suggested. "Leave a message."

"I tried that," Carter said evenly. "He didn't get back to me."

Rick shrugged. "Well, like I said. He's asleep. Tell you what. Why don't you call back in a few hours?"

Carter nodded slowly. "Guess I can do that. Be sure to tell him I came round."

Rick watched Carter walk away and smiled. Then he shut the door and went back to the game.

* * *

The phone gave two crisp rings and then it was answered.

"Constantine."

"Mr Fitzwilliam. Twice in a day. I am honoured."

Not to mention immediately alert and suspicious. Mr Fitzwilliam smiled. He stood in the hothouse and reached up, picking off a stray leaf that was on the turn.

"I thought I would like to take a longer look at the ledgers, Constantine. If it's not too much trouble."

His place was an hour's flight from New York. Inconvenient but not _too _much trouble.

"Of course, Mr Fitzwilliam." Really the only possible answer. "I can be with you this evening-"

"Oh, no, no, no, Constantine. I wouldn't dream of disrupting your day in that way." Not today, anyway. "Tomorrow morning will be just fine."

"Tomorrow morning. Right. I'll be with you for nine o'clock."

"Thank you. I'll make sure to have breakfast waiting. Oh, and Constantine?" He paused and enjoyed the sudden anxious silence at the other end of the phone. "Bring James along with you. I should like to see him again also."

"Of course, Mr Fitzwilliam."

He ended the call and ran a finger tenderly over the blossom of an _aeridaes lawrenciae. _ Running his operation was like looking after his plants: a little training, a little nurture, a little encouragement and if things were rotten…he pinched out a dead bud…a little decisive action.

* * *

There had been no answer when Carter had returned and knocked again at the door. Peering through the windows, Carter couldn't see anyone. No surly Rick and certainly no Danny. They were either out or playing hide-and-seek.

He dug out his phone and tried Danny's number. Still no answer. Damn. With a sigh, he scrolled down to Rick's name and hit dial.

"_This is Rick. I'm not here. Leave a message."_

Carter didn't bother. He looked at the door thoughtfully. Well, they had to come back at some point.

Some point turned out to be over two hours later. Carter looked up and gave a genuine smile as he saw Danny on crutches making his way up towards him.

"Look at you," Carter smiled, getting to his feet.

Danny gave him a grin tinged with well-managed pain. "Getting better every day. This time next week, I'll be roller-blading."

Rick came fussing up behind him. "Take it easy, Danny."

"I'm fine, Rick-"

"You're not. You need peace and quiet and to get some rest-"

"Rick, I'm fine," Danny insisted. He looked at Carter. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Little while," Carter said mildly, not looking at Rick. "Where've you been?"

"Hospital. Check-up and a spot of physio. Sorry, Carter, if I'd known you were coming, I'd have told you."

"I'm sure you would have." Still not looking at Rick. "Shall we go in?"

* * *

Rick had slunk off to make coffee. Carter thought about what Reuben had told Scott and himself about Danny's partner.

"_He clings to Danny like a limpet. I trust him as far as I could throw the Xanadu but Danny's loyal."_

"_Loyal and stubborn," Scott sighed._

"_And Rick's not worthy," Reuben said grimly. "Not by a long way. He has no class."_

No. Carter had to say he agreed.

He let none of it show as he sat opposite Danny. Danny had enough to cope with without Carter's opinion of Rick.

Instead, he leaned forward and said gently:

"I wanted to talk about Monday."

Danny's face tightened and then he gave a curt nod as if he did not trust himself to speak.

"You said on the phone that you'd like Teresa to be cremated and I've arranged that. A short service first and you'll want to say a few words…"

Danny nodded again.

"Is there any music that you'd like played? Any hymns or readings?"

"No." Danny's voice was a whisper. "No."

"We'll keep it simple then." Carter hesitated then asked, "Are there any clothes that you particularly want her to wear? I can go and get them."

Danny was silent for a moment and then he shrugged. "She was wearing her new dress." Agony washed over him for a moment and then he marshalled his features. "There's a bright pink dress I bought her at Christmas. She loved it. She wore it to-"

He broke off and gasped through the wire in his mouth. With obvious effort, he waved away Carter's concern and when he spoke again, his voice was brittle but steady.

"The pink dress. And there's a pair of black sandals with a diamante buckle."

"I'll find them," Carter promised. "And I'm sorry to ask, Danny, but would you like to have her wedding ring or-"

He broke off. Danny was shaking his head and the distress was visible.

"She should wear it," Danny said hoarsely, blinking back obvious tears.

"I'm so sorry," Carter said again, meaning it. "I think that's nearly everything. Service starts at 2pm and I'll send the cars here for 1.30. I've let Reuben and Scott know. And Felicity is coming."

Danny nodded, smiling weakly. "Good."

Rick appeared with the coffee. "What's good?"

"Felicity's coming back for Teresa's service," Carter explained, taking the coffee cup from Rick and nodding his thanks.

He sipped the coffee and then he asked the question he really didn't want to. He was so afraid of the answer.

"Have you heard from Rusty?"

Danny's face closed up. "No."

No. Carter sighed inwardly. Christ, he hoped that boy wasn't off doing something ridiculous. Of course, this was Rusty they were talking about. Some hope.

"Do you think…" Carter hesitated. This was Danny's call, after all. "Do you think we should let him know about the funeral?"

Danny said nothing for a moment and Carter found him almost impossible to read. Like he was weighing up a hundred things in his head and his heart and trying to come to an answer.

"I think you should," Rick said unexpectedly and they both turned their heads. Rick shrugged. "I'm sure he'd want to pay his respects."

Rick stepped up a notch in Carter's estimation.

"I'll call him," Carter offered but Rick shook his head.

"Danny should be the one. It's his wife."

Danny nodded agreement. "I'll contact him."

"Right." Carter finished the coffee. "I guess I'll see you on Monday, then."

"Thank you," Danny said. "And whatever this is costing-"

"We've got it covered. Reuben, Scott and I," Carter said, cutting that argument off before it started. "This is something we _can_ help with."

_And we need to help._ That was the thought that he didn't express but that he hoped Danny would understand. They all three of them felt singularly useless.

Danny looked like he wanted to discuss further but in the end, he gave a tired nod of thanks and acceptance.

"I'll see you out," Rick said.

* * *

Rick returned from closing the door on Carter for the second time that day and found Danny frowning.

"You think I should give Rusty a call?" he checked as Rick sat back down.

"Yeah. Or text him."

Danny looked hesitant.

"I want to," he whispered and Rick's heart sank because this was more than about the funeral. "I want to but I…" He shook his head. "Maybe Carter _should_ be the one to-"

"No," Rick said firmly. "This is about what's right, Danny. Now, he's stayed away from you for the past…however many days and maybe that's about grieving, maybe that's to do with the level of commitment that he's really about. Something like this? I think you'll get an answer."

* * *

An answer. He would. Danny's brow cleared. It had felt wrong not having Rusty around although he'd never admit it to Rick. Somehow, in such a short space of time, Rusty had become like an old friend that he could count on and confide in. Before everything had kicked off, Danny had pictured phone calls and meetings and visits to Europe and return trips to the States and a world where they'd work together and discuss the impossible and make it happen.

He didn't understand the silence from Rusty. The absence. But Rick was right. Teresa's funeral _mattered_. Rusty couldn't ignore that. Everything that Danny felt he instinctively knew about Rusty meant that the man had to be there.

There was no way that Rusty wasn't going to show.

* * *

Work over, Alex and James were headed towards their living quarters in discussion about where exactly they were going to eat for the evening. As they walked past Constantine's door, Alex saw his brother waiting.

"Come on in," Constantine invited.

Only it wasn't an invitation. Because you could refuse invitations. They followed Constantine back into his suite.

Constantine smiled inexplicably at James. "Have you told him?"

James was silent and Alex rounded on his brother immediately.

"Told me what?" he demanded.

Constantine's smile widened but he said nothing, his eyes on James. Alex turned anxiously towards James.

"What is it?" he asked softly.

James was holding Constantine's gaze and Alex found himself wondering whether either of them was going to share. He moved closer to James, stepping in between his lover and his brother and James looked at him.

"Please," Alex said softly. _ Please _he said with his eyes_._

James's gaze flickered.

"Constantine got the results through," he muttered.

The results? Alex frowned and then he realised.

"Your boyfriend's disease-free," Constantine said pleasantly and white-faced, Alex glared at him. "What? You can screw each other happily ever after wherever you want and whenever the urge takes you. Consider it an early birthday present."

"You think I ought to be grateful?" Alex said with disbelief. "You make James go through that and you're joking about it…" He broke off and shook his head. "Who do you think you are?"

Constantine's face clouded. "I'm your brother and I care about you." He regained some of his equilibrium. "And let's face it, without rubber getting in the way, the sex is _always_ going to feel better-"

The slap rang out like a whipcrack in the room. Hand shaking, Alex watched as Constantine slowly rubbed his cheek. That had been him. That had been _him. _He barely held on to the shock trembling inside.

"Don't push it, Alex," Constantine warned darkly.

He wouldn't dare. He'd _never_ dared. He'd hit his own brother and he knew that only fools made an enemy of Constantine. Then again…the way Constantine had behaved…the anger rose up in him again and kept the apology from babbling out.

Constantine turned away and poured himself a whisky. Alex started to move towards the door and then Constantine said:

"By the way, James, we have a personal invite tomorrow to visit Mr Fitzwilliam."

"All of us?" Alex frowned.

"No. Just James and me." Constantine turned back round and Alex saw the white mark of his handprint on Constantine's cheek. Guilt flushed through him.

"Constantine, I'm-"

Constantine cut him off. "It'll be an early start, James. We need to be at JFK for six o'clock."

"Alright," James said softly.

"You two run along and enjoy yourselves. Don't make me come knocking."

Alex opened his mouth again to apologise but Constantine's eyes were fierce. No saying sorry. No weakness. Hitting him was one thing but stammering out regret was another. The Taylor brothers stood by their actions. He closed his mouth and Constantine gave a half-grunt of approval.

He and James walked back to their room in silence and as soon as the door was shut behind them, Alex felt James's hand on his arm, offering reassurance. He pulled James to him in a rough embrace, finding comfort in the touch. Just holding on to James made him feel calmer.

"Are you alright?" James murmured.

"I've never hit him," Alex admitted numbly. "I might have been angry, I might have disagreed with him but I've never actually…" He swallowed and pulled back, cupping James's face with his hands. "You just mean so much to me. I don't want anyone to be coarse or…" He swallowed again and the words rose up out of him. "I lo-"

James cut him off with a kiss. Deep and passionate and long and intense. Like his life depended on it. Alex forgot about words.


	57. Plant

Relationship Matters by InSilva

A/N: I typed and then lost over 2,000 words of this chapter. I was not impressed. *scowls at laptop* Hope I've remembered everything. *mournful*

A/N: Day 14 of the 2011 Advent Calendar.

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Plant

* * *

_**SomeWhere…SomeTime...**_

Clever hands were stacking and restacking piles of cards and then turning them over in sequence. The cards fell fortuitously or naturally depending on your point of view.

"Cheating at solitaire?" the other wondered aloud. "I'd have to question the point of that."

Auburn curls bounced as she shrugged. "If you have to ask the question, then you'd never get the point. Besides. I'm not cheating."

The statement was considered. "The deck wants to please you."

She inclined her head and looked up under her lashes. "So many things do."

The pout and the flirt washed straight over him.

"That won't-"

"-work," she finished. "I know." She gathered the cards together and looked at him. "What do you want?"

"It's your favourites."

"What about them?" she asked sharply.

"I thought you would want to see."

Through airless air, he drew his fingers and the two threads were visible. One gleaming golden, the other still crusted with slime. She started to shake her head because she had seen this. This was old news. And then she looked harder.

There was another thread wrapping itself round the golden one, lifting it away and clear of other contact. And buried deep in the slime and winding its way round the other was another thread, embracing it, holding it tightly in place.

"Maybe they are not meant to meet again," he suggested.

"They meet," she said at once.

He looked at her with grey eyes that saw every possibility. "Maybe they don't."

* * *

Danny had gone back to his room, determined to make the call to Rusty. So many things he wanted to say and really, it came down to four simple words. _Rusty, please come home._

Here, he corrected himself. God, he was more tired than he though. _Rusty, please come here._ And then when Rusty was back, they could bury Teresa and say goodbye. And then they could talk, properly, about everything and he could tell him, properly, about how brave Eduardo had been and then they could plan, properly, on how to take vengeance. Somehow it didn't feel right not having Rusty there. Such a definite lack, an ache almost… Huh. He'd better not let Rick hear him thinking like that.

First things first. Call Rusty. And it wasn't about begging, it wasn't about anything other than what was right. Danny couldn't imagine him ignoring Teresa's funeral. Yes. He needed to call-

Where the hell was his damn phone?

* * *

He still hadn't found it by the time Rick came down in the morning. He'd searched his room and all of downstairs including the fridge in case he'd had a moment of forgetfulness.

"You called Rusty yet?" Rick asked, yawning, as he headed for breakfast.

"No." Danny sighed. "I can't find my phone."

"Have you checked in your bedroom?"

Danny just looked at him.

"OK, OK," Rick held his hands up placatingly.

"I've looked every damn where. Can I borrow-"

"Bet you left it at the hospital yesterday when you went back for physio. Tell you what. I'll have a bite to eat and then swing by and ask."

Danny smiled. "Thanks."

Rick shrugged. "What are friends for?"

* * *

The start was as early as Constantine had promised and Alex had kissed James goodbye with an anxiety that put Rusty slightly on edge.

"It'll be fine," James had whispered. "I'll be fine."

"Hurry back," Alex had breathed in return and this wasn't all about an eager boyfriend. This was about Mr Fitzwilliam and the fear he inspired. This was about the deep dive into the operation. Exactly where he wanted to be, Rusty reminded himself.

They made it to JFK in time to sit and have a coffee before their flight and now he was sitting opposite Constantine and doing his best to keep James a pleasant travel companion.

"So. When did you first discover you were into guys?" Constantine asked. "Or that guys were into you?"

Rusty looked at the smile curving up, full of hard amusement and James's words died in his mouth. Instead, he shot back, "When did you discover you were into girls?"

Constantine chuckled. "Sooner than Alex made his mind up. I worked out he was gay long before he realised."

Yeah. Rusty knew this story. Constantine coming out and asking Alex if he was ready to come out.

"He'd go out with a girl once, maybe twice and then I'd catch him looking at these toned guys with this dreamy expression…wasn't hard to work out. Figure he'd still be in denial if I hadn't done something about it." Constantine's expression turned sly. "You want to know what else I did about it?"

Horror washed over Rusty. Just the way Constantine had said it. He couldn't mean…he didn't mean…

The grin on Constantine's face was wide and Rusty kicked himself for offering up the reaction.

"Don't worry. I didn't screw my little brother. I just facilitated an introduction."

"You did what?" James looked puzzled.

"To a handsome sailor. After that, Alex didn't have any doubts about what he was looking for in bed."

"Henrik," Rusty said slowly. Henrik, the blond Viking.

Constantine nodded. "He told you about Henrik, then. Henrik was possibly the best five thousand dollars I've spent on Alex to date." He paused and then added, "He has no idea, of course."

Meaning that if Alex suddenly did catch on, Constantine would know exactly who had told him.

The departure gate suddenly flashed up on the board and Constantine drained his coffee.

"Come on. That's us."

* * *

It was barely eight when Carter pulled up outside Danny's house. Last time he'd been here, he'd brought Felicity back and this had been very much a crime scene, covered in forbidding yellow and black tape. There was nothing now. Bobby had told him he'd sanctioned a complete clean up operation and the house now looked innocent enough. Testament to how deceiving looks could be.

Carter climbed up the steps to the front door and picked the lock. Danny hadn't offered him a key and he hadn't bothered asking for one. Some conversations just weren't necessary.

He cracked the door and walked inside, the smell of disinfectant overwhelming him. There must have been a considerable amount of blood to clean up.

He walked through into the lounge and looked at the well-scrubbed floor. Here, there had been pain and suffering and death. Agony that had killed Rusty's friend and Danny's wife and had left Danny for dead also. Whoever had been responsible… Carter set his jaw. Wasn't like this was the first time he'd come across this. Or even the second or third. He sighed. Most likely it wouldn't be the last either.

Upstairs and he found Danny and Teresa's room on the first attempt. There was a photo on the side. Danny and a dark-haired beauty. Danny's arm was around her and she was laughing up at him and there was happiness and together and forever and for a moment, Carter had to stop and blink back on the emotion overwhelming him. Not the time nor the place. On a whim, he took the photo out of the frame and slipped it into his jacket. Would be nice for Danny to have.

Investigating the first wardrobe, he found the dress and the sandals easily. It wasn't hard to picture the laughing girl in the photo delighting in the party feel of them and he thought again about wasted potential of a life cut short and it _hurt._ He sat back down on the bed and took a deep breath. Ridiculous. Ridiculous. Focus on the details, he told himself. Details helped. He took another deep breath and stood back up again.

A thought struck him and he opened up the second wardrobe with the distinctly male content. Carter grabbed three suits of sombre colours and a handful of shirts and then unzipping a canvas bag that he found in the wardrobe's depths, he raided the chest of drawers, dropping in underwear and socks and adding a few pairs of shoes. Danny would like to have something of his own around him.

He moved the clothes to the car and then locked up the house again. He needed to head back. There were other arrangements to be made and there wasn't that much time.

He wondered if Danny had spoken to Rusty yet. He wondered if Rusty was ready to bury Eduardo yet. Maybe when he saw him at Teresa's funeral, he could broach the subject delicately. Rusty hadn't been there for Mitch: he'd been too dead-set on revenge. The boy had always been too damn impulsive, too damn self-sufficient. At least this time, Rusty was going to wait for Danny.

* * *

There had been men waiting for them when they landed and Rusty supposed that was to be expected. And the limo with the tinted windows was probably the done thing too. The real curveball came once James had climbed into the car and sat alongside Constantine: Rusty was non-plussed in the extreme when Constantine handed him a hood.

He stared at the black silk long enough for Constantine to say with exaggerated patience, "It goes on your head."

No shit. And no. No. He wasn't signing up for this.

Constantine took it off him and pulled the hood firmly over his head blocking out light and sight. Automatically, Rusty reached up to remove it and Constantine's hands closed round his fingers.

"It stays on until we get to Mr Fitzwilliam's house."

Just enough warning in the voice to make it clear that there was no other option. Rusty gritted his teeth and sat rigid-still and knew his breathing was getting shorter. Darkness and helplessness and he hated it. _Hated _it. There was soft laughter from Constantine and he hated that too.

It seemed forever until the car drew to a halt and at once, Rusty's fingers were pulling at the fabric cocoon. Constantine restrained him once more with a tut-tut-tut.

"Not yet." Constantine's mouth was uncomfortably close to his ear. "We're not inside the house yet."

The car door opened and with a distinct lack of usual grace, Rusty clambered out on to the crunch of gravel and then felt Constantine's hand on his elbow, guiding him. The urge to pull away was so strong that he had to force himself to permit the touch.

Stumbling up steps, he heard the surface under his feet change. Marble floor for a guess. And the journey continued until the temperature around him grew noticeably warmer and more humid. The surface he was walking on seemed duller…terracotta tiles maybe?...and then finally, thankfully, the hood disappeared.

The light was overwhelmingly bright and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Then he saw Mr Fitzwilliam beaming at him, all three-piece suited and diamond tie-pinned even though they were standing in…

This was a hothouse. The area where they were standing was indeed tiled and had been dressed with a mosaic table and iron-wrought chairs but surrounding them was a host of exotic plants. Rusty thought about what Alex had told him of how Mr Fitzwilliam rewarded incompetence and held on to the shudder with difficulty.

"James," Mr Fitzwilliam welcomed. "How nice to see you again. Good journey, I trust?"

"It was fine, Mr Fitzwilliam," James replied, adding ruefully, "I hope I don't have hood hair."

Mr Fitzwilliam gave a sudden guffaw. "You look perfectly fine, my boy. Why don't you both join me? I've laid on breakfast and now that you've arrived, coffee will be brought."

The table was laden with pastries and croissants and jugs of orange juice. They all three of them sat down and Rusty prepared himself to say little and listen much.

* * *

Rick gave his coffee a sullen stir. The relentlessly cheery barista had pushed all sorts of flavours – gingerbread, crème brulee, cinnamon candy – but Rick had glared at her until she'd shut up and given him the plain coffee he liked. Suppose he couldn't blame her. She probably got brownie points for mentioning all the seasonal lines. Probably got them for selling brownies too.

He pulled Danny's phone out of his pocket and stared at it glumly. He should have realised that Saint Carter would suggest Golden Boy rock up at Teresa's funeral. And once the idea was out there, he'd had to act fast to support it. To make it incumbent on Danny to invite Rusty. Last thing he wanted was Carter making the call.

With a sigh, he pocketed the phone again. He'd have to give it back to Danny and spin some story about where he'd found it. At least he had Plan B as far as the phone was concerned. Unless Rusty was a mind-reader, he'd have no idea that Danny was trying to get in touch.

* * *

The conversation at Mr Fitzwilliam's breakfast table had touched a little on business at Larner's, a little on business outside of Larner's, a little on the opportunities and threats presented by competitors. Rusty busied himself with the pastries and the croissants and listened to the full and frank appraisal of Cussons' outfit and possible encroachment into areas that they themselves thought unencroachable.

Cussons. Rusty added the name to his list of information he'd gathered. Part of the design would be to lay false trails and hide behind lies that might be truths.

"Penny for them, James?" Mr Fitzwilliam asked, breaking into his thoughts.

James gave a guilty start. "I was admiring all the orchids. They're beautiful."

"Delicate and exotic," Mr Fitzwilliam agreed. "Why don't you wander down the path and choose one for your buttonhole?"

It was a dismissal of sorts.

"Thanks." James got to his feet and wandered away.

* * *

"I can't say I have ever been attracted to men but I can certainly see that he is aesthetically pleasing." Mr Fitzwilliam murmured as James walked away from them. "Alex is happy?"

"Yes," Constantine nodded. "Alex is happy."

"You think this might be…a permanent arrangement?"

Constantine threw a glance after James and nodded again. "It looks like it's heading that way."

"Hmm…"

"I've looked into his background," Constantine said hurriedly. "And he seems to be fitting in very well."

He was gabbling. He shut up quickly. James had made a good enough impression on Mr Fitzwilliam.

"It's good to hear that young Alex is settling down. I will confess that I have sometimes wondered if he is made of strong enough stuff for this life. Rather like the orchids, Alex has a hint of the delicate about him. I think James might be a good influence on him."

Constantine swallowed the slight on Alex. Not like he didn't know what Mr Fitzwilliam thought of his little brother.

"Did you want to see the ledgers?" Constantine asked.

"Let us start with the ledgers, yes."

Mr Fitzwilliam bent his head over both the inventory and the accounting ledgers and nodded, making little noises of approval, as he leafed through the pages.

"These look on track. Any problems with the money coming in?"

"No. All the funding is sound."

"Good, good." Mr Fitzwilliam didn't sound that interested and Constantine started to frown. Surely the point of this visit hadn't just been about James.

Mr Fitzwilliam closed up the ledgers and looked to see where James had gotten to. Constantine looked too. James was nowhere in sight. Wandering no doubt down the bottom end of the hothouse.

"I have something important to share with you, Constantine. This information is not for public dissemination. Luis Marquez is leaving the Colombia operation and coming to the States. As you can imagine, he is rather hot property. I have agreed that we will help rehome him in return for certain consideration. If all goes to plan, I will bring him to Larner's in December. This is the only time I will mention Marquez's name. We will refer to him as Mardi Gras and once I have the date, I will let you know so that arrangements can be made. Understood?"

Constantine nodded. Luis Marquez was a powerful crime lord. The certain consideration would be considerable. And the trust Mr Fitzwilliam was placing in him was considerable also.

"Thank you, Mr Fitzwilliam, for this opportunity," he said. "I met Luis Marquez when I was in Colombia and I know he is an important man."

"The very reason I thought of you."

"I won't let you down. Larner's won't let you down."

Mr Fitzwilliam smiled. "I know you won't, Constantine."

He turned his head and the smile widened. "And here is James returning. Which flower did you select, James?"

James held up a deep purple orchid.

"Ah, _Spathoglottis plicata_. An excellent choice. Admirable colouring and an attractive form. Here. Let me fasten it in place for you. There."

"Thanks," James acknowledged.

"My pleasure," Mr Fitzwilliam said.

* * *

"My pleasure," said Mr Fitzwilliam and Rusty kept the easy-going expression plastered on James's face, trying not to let anything show on his face.

He'd headed off down the path towards the orchids as instructed and then he'd seen a side-path. It looked like it was doing its best to stay hidden and that made it all the more intriguing.

Glancing back at the table, the men were bent over the black books of figures and Rusty seized the moment. If he got found out, he could always claim he'd gone the wrong way.

The plants were larger down here and the smell was…meaty…sweaty…vile. Rusty moved closer to one of the large plants and crouched down over the mulch. Was that…was that a belt buckle? Shit. Slightly nauseated, he stood back up again and then he heard:

"_I have something important to share with you, Constantine. This information is not for public dissemination. "_

Somehow, he'd doubled back on himself into hearing distance. He kept perfectly still as he heard the very privileged information that had now reached one more person than Mr Fitzwilliam intended.

OK. Now if he got found out, he stood every chance of being fed to a plant. Rusty held his breath and stayed as long as he dared. When Mr Fitzwilliam said _"Understood?", _he decided to make a move. Not back along the path. He needed to get down to the damn orchids.

There was a thin strip of terracotta edging the beds and Rusty picked his way carefully down it until he reached the flowers. He grabbed the nearest one and hastened back to the main path.

The others didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. He let Mr Fitzwilliam fix it to his jacket and he swore the man must be able to hear his heart racing.

Nothing.

Neither of them knew he knew.

The secret burned deep inside him.

* * *

"Here you go," Rick said, handing over the missing phone.

Danny's face lit up. "Where was it?"

"Last place you'd have looked," Rick told him. "Well, go on. Call Rusty."

Danny scrolled through his contacts and hit the number then pressed the phone to his ear.

"It's turned off," he said with disappointment.

"Guess you could send a text," Rick suggested.

"Guess I could." Danny hit the SMS and frowned. There was a draft there he'd thought he'd deleted. His fingers hovered over the send button because the message still held. Then he erased it and started over.

_"Teresa's funeral is on Monday, Rusty. Please call me. Danny."_

That seemed to be enough. He thought that that would have drawn him back if he'd received it. It was like a huge weight had lifted from his shoulders. He'd made contact with Rusty. Now he just had to wait for Rusty to call.


	58. Behind Closed Doors

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: do not own.

A/N: for otherhawk. Who asked for different fic entirely but who has this instead and it's still late. :) Thank you for putting up with useless friend. :D

Chapter Fifty-eight: Behind Closed Doors

* * *

They'd stayed for lunch with Mr Fitzwilliam and the conversation had been general and unhelpful: no more mention of Colombian crime bosses, no more discussion of illegal activity.

"Be seeing you, James," Mr Fitzwilliam smiled as they took their farewells.

Rusty submitted to the hood again, ignoring the grin on Constantine's face as he put it on him. Constantine really was enjoying this far too much.

He tried to focus on the return journey. They went over gravel and there was a pause, probably for gates, and then slow travel through traffic and then a part where they gradually picked up speed. Freeway for a guess.

"We're back at the airport," Constantine said eventually as the car came to a halt.

Immediately, Rusty's fingers peeled off the hood and he handed it back to Constantine.

"You want to hang on to this?" Constantine asked, offering it back to him.

Rusty frowned. As what? A souvenir?

Constantine shrugged, his eyes never leaving Rusty's. "I'm open-minded about this things. Who knows what you and Alex want to get up to-"

"Keep it," Rusty snapped, climbing out of the car.

* * *

Alex had obviously been waiting for James's safe return from Mr Fitzwilliam's with anxiety. As Constantine and James walked back out of the elevator, he was hovering in the corridor and the look of relief that he shot in Rusty's direction was immense.

"You're back," Alex said ridiculously and happily.

"I'm back," James agreed with a smile. Rusty could feel the smirk from Constantine behind him.

"Good to see you too, little brother. Why don't you both come into my suite for a moment?"

Constantine moved past them both and opened his door. Alex exchanged wary glances with James and then they followed Constantine.

"Was…was Mr Fitzwilliam…did he…" Alex tailed off.

"Mr Fitzwilliam was absolutely fine." Constantine poured three glasses of whisky and handed each of them a drink.

"It's a little earl-" Alex stopped as Rusty took a swig.

"Never too early, is it, James?" Constantine tipped his glass in Rusty's direction.

Rusty's fingers tightened round the glass.

"As I was saying, Mr Fitzwilliam is fine. He's taken a bit of a shine to James, here." Constantine's fingers straightened up the flower in Rusty's buttonhole.

Rusty held his breath and forced a smile on to James's face. "Well, he gave me an orchid. Don't think that means we're going steady."

"Hope not," Alex agreed a little too quickly, a little too brightly.

"Don't worry. Mr Fitzwilliam isn't going to steal him away from us. Oh," Constantine added casually. "Something else."

Rusty wondered if Constantine was about to explain about Mr Fitzwilliam's big secret: Luis Marquez's imminent arrival. Instead, he walked over to his desk and picked up an envelope, handing it to Alex. Alex blinked at him and then he fumblingly opened the envelope and stared at the contents, open-mouthed.

"Happy birthday, little brother."

Wordlessly, Alex showed James two tickets to Niagara Falls and Rusty half-swallowed the _huh_. Constantine heard it and smiled at him.

"Thought you might both like a little time away together."

"Thank you, Constantine," Alex was saying and Rusty heard himself echo "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Plane leaves tonight. Happy packing."

* * *

Drinks over, Alex pulled James into their room and didn't even try to stop the smile erupting over his face.

"I swear Constantine's secretly a hopeless romantic," he laughed.

"He certainly likes to surprise," James murmured.

Alex's hands were still on James's arms and he pushed him gently back against the wall and kissed him. God…so much…James was…God…

"I missed you," Alex said sincerely as they broke.

"I've only been gone for half a day," James pointed out gently.

"Doesn't matter," Alex replied, his voice soft, his eyes full of feeling.

James blinked and turned away. "Let's get some clothes together, shall we? Flight's in a few hours."

Damn it. James had looked… He hadn't meant to overwhelm, it was just that the emotions inside _him_ were overwhelming. Damn it. He needed to handle this better.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time Carter knocked on the door. It was opened by Rick who showed about as much inclination to let him inside as he had the other day. He didn't know how big a power kick Rick was getting from this but Carter was a hairsbreadth away from explaining exactly what he thought about his behaviour.

"That Carter?" Danny's voice came from inside. It sounded like "Tha' Car'ur?" but translation had grown easier.

Carter said nothing. Just held Rick's gaze as Rick stood to one side and let him pass.

"Hi," Carter smiled warmly as he walked into the living area and sat down near Danny. "How're you doing today?"

Danny looked…better somehow. More settled. Carter wondered…

"I got ahold of Rusty," Danny said. "Well, texted him."

Yep. That explained it. Carter felt something relax inside him. Rusty had been in contact. He started to smile.

"When's he expected?"

Danny frowned slightly. "He hasn't got back to me yet but I only sent the message a little while ago."

Huh. The smile died. Still. Danny looked brighter than he had done in a while. Carter guessed that after weeks of inactivity, things were starting to move on: not just the funeral but starting to regain his strength, starting to make plans…

"How'd you get on at the house?" Rick broke in to his thoughts.

"I found Teresa's dress and her shoes," Carter said softly to Danny and grimaced at the wince of pain Danny tried to hide. "I took them to the funeral home. And I found some shirts and suits and stuff for you."

He turned to Rick and threw him the keys. "Do you want to bring them in?"

Rick looked like he wanted to argue and then shook his head and disappeared. Carter waited till he was gone and then turned back at once to Danny.

"Picked this up as well." He handed over the photo. "I know that now might not be the time to look at this but later and you might want to."

* * *

Danny's fingers closed over the edge of the photo and he stared down at the image. Him and Teresa. Laughing and happy and together and _alive _and it hurt, it _hurt. _He screwed his eyes up tight.

A hand closed gently over his.

"Like I said," Carter murmured. "Now might not be the time."

Danny swallowed hard and opened his eyes. There was something in Carter's face, a sympathy…an empathy that Danny didn't fully understand. Saul. It had to be Saul. From what Carter had said back at the hospital, Saul had been a good friend.

"Thank you," he managed hoarsely, pushing the photo away into a pocket.

Carter nodded understandingly. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again as Rick walked back in with suits and a holdall.

"Well, I'll be on my way." Carter stood up. "I'll see you on Monday. If there's anything that you want-"

"Then he's got me," Rick interrupted.

"Rick!" Danny exclaimed, shaking his head. He looked up at Carter. "You've done so much, Carter."

"I can do more," Carter promised. "You just need to ask."

* * *

Bobby stepped off the flight from Washington and walked through JFK, feeling an overwhelming sense of déjà vu coupled with an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. Milton Stuart's appeal had been almost as draining as the original trial, almost as gruelling as the search for him had been.

The bastard was so sure that he was going to walk. Surrounded by smart lawyers, _smarter_ lawyers than the first time round who walked through the detail and tried to pick holes in Bobby's testimony that weren't there. He'd made it home to Molly and Linus for a couple of the weekends and it had been like coming up for air. Even listening to how unfair Linus felt life was treating him was a break from thinking about Milton's smug expression.

In the end, it came down to who was to be believed: Milton or Bobby. The relief had washed over Bobby as the appeal was turned down and Milton was dragged, snarling, away from court.

When he hit work next week, he'd have a backlog of cases that were going to demand immediate attention. He'd already picked up a text from Drew about a kidnapping and another from Heston to say that he was following up a lead tonight – a possible drugs bust. Finding Rusty wasn't official business but that didn't make it any less important. Bobby was determined to make it a priority. He climbed into a yellow cab and gave the address for Alisha's apartment.

* * *

Alisha's apartment had the drapes closed. Bobby watched it from the opposite side of the street for a while but there was no movement. An old lady walked up the steps to the building with a bag of shopping and as she disappeared inside, Bobby was already crossing the road.

Bobby caught the front door with his shoulder before it closed and held it for a long moment, waiting for the old lady's footsteps to disappear. He listened for any other sounds inside. There was nothing.

Slipping into the empty main hall, he closed the door softly behind him. He had to be careful how he handled this. The last thing he needed was to be caught up trying to explain himself to suspicious residents or even more suspicious local cops.

Bobby pressed his ear up to Alisha's front door.

"You lookin' for Alisha?"

All professional cool forgotten, Bobby jumped. There was a loud cackle and he turned, his heart racing and saw a wizened face staring at him through the bannisters.

"Sorry, mister." There was another cackle from the man that sounded like the regret wasn't all that sincere.

"You sit there all day waiting for moments like that?" Bobby asked.

"Pretty much," the man said cheerfully. "You get to my age and my state of health and that qualifies as first-rate entertainment. You lookin' for Alisha?"

"You know her?" Bobby countered.

"Sure. She's been livin' here for the past four years. Don't know that she hasn't upped and left though. Ellis – he's the landlord – was moanin' that she's behind with the rent."

"You think that's what's happened?"

The man shrugged. His expression turned sly. "I reckon she's been whisked away by one of her fancy men or my name ain't Simmonds."

Presumably, that was his name and the way Simmonds was looking at him... Gratefully, Bobby took the role offered.

"Fancy men?" He let a trace of guilt run over his features. "Look, someone just said I ought to look Alisha up. Fancy men?"

Simmonds let out another cackle. "String of 'em she's got. In and out of here at all hours and she's only after what they can buy her. Old fools the lot of 'em. No offence, mister."

"None taken. And she's got a…friend…at the moment, has she?"

Simmonds grew thoughtful. "Ain't seen her with anyone for a bit. That young boy's stopped coming round too."

Anton. Bobby said nothing. Seemed like the old man was happy enough to talk.

"Round here all the time, he was, a few months back. Worked down one of the clubs. Ain't seen him in a while. Ain't seen Alisha either, come to that."

The hairs on the back of Bobby's neck started to rise. He stared at him. "How long?"

"Few weeks now. Like I said. She's gone found herself a better offer."

Maybe… Bobby turned round and studied Alisha's door again. Maybe she and Anton had skipped town after the auction had gone so very wrong for them. He pressed his ear up against Alisha's door again and frowned. It was very faint but he could hear…

Bobby straightened up.

"Something's wrong," he murmured.

He knelt down and with a few deft strokes, broke the lock on the door.

"Maybe we should wait for the cops…? Hey!" Simmonds voice trailed after him as he entered the apartment, drawing his gun.

Something was very wrong. There was a stillness, a staleness…a _feeling_…All of Bobby's senses were on high alert. There was no one there but there was a shadow of someone. Something. Just because he dealt in facts didn't mean that he didn't trust instinct and intuition. And there was the noise. Bobby moved to the closed bedroom door, the sound growing imperceptibly louder as he did so. He could be calling this wrong but he held his breath anyway as he opened the door.

The wave of malodour washed over him as a plague of flies swarmed towards him and away from the decomposing body laid neatly on the bed.

"Jee-zus!" Simmonds had followed him in. "Jee-zus!"

Jesus indeed. Christ, Bobby hated being right.


	59. Niagara

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: still do not own.

A/N: early birthday fic for otherhawk. There may be more fic for you, mate. And you might be away when I post it. Who can tell? Who can tell? (said in Stephen Moore voice)

Chapter Fifty-nine: Niagara

* * *

Rusty lay in the king-size bed with the red silk sheets with Alex, sleeping beside him and stared at the ceiling. This was…this was surreal.

They'd packed and they'd left Larner's, sent on their way with Constantine's knowing smile. Standing on the sidewalk, waiting for Tony to bring the car round and Alex had been laughing, drunk on anticipation, clutching his arm. Some Japanese tourist had been stood opposite looking at them with interest and Rusty wondered what they looked like as a couple.

A couple.

Fuck.

Tony had driven them to the airport and the flight had been smooth and the transfer had been fine and the hotel had easily been five stars. The room was_ huge_. It had a Jacuzzi in front of the fireplace, for fuck's sake. There was a late supper and a bottle of champagne waiting for them and they'd wined and dined and then they'd fallen into bed. Rusty had been perfectly prepared for James to round the night off memorably for Alex but Alex had just hugged him and kissed him gently on the cheek.

"Let's get some rest, shall we?"

Unexpected. And somehow disturbing in the extreme. Sleep had not been easy to come by. And now…

"Morning." Alex opened sleepy eyes.

"Morning," James smiled. "Happy birthday."

"This has to be my favourite place to wake up."

"Niagara?"

Alex grinned. "I meant beside you."

"Oh, that." James returned the grin and then sobered up. He reached into his holdall at the side of the bed and dug out Alex's present. "Here. Hope you like it."

Alex's fingers ran over the elegantly wrapped package, exploring the shape. "This looks intriguing…" He tore off the paper carefully, exposing the slim box with the jeweller's name in flowing script. "And _expensive_… you shouldn't have…" Alex took off the lid and picked out the fountain pen.

"I remembered you'd broken your pen…" James said softly.

Alex threw his arms around Rusty's neck. "It's beautiful! I love it!"

And there was truth mixed up with just a little hint of untruth in there that made Rusty frown inside until he realised that Alex had maybe thought that there had been jewellery in the box.

"I'm glad you like it," James smiled and Rusty waited for the embrace to turn into another birthday treat for Alex but Alex pulled free.

"Let's get dressed and go down for breakfast, shall we?"

* * *

Breakfast over, they'd walked out to the Falls, marvelling together at the wonder of the water.

"I always wanted to see this!" Alex shouted over the noise.

"Something special, isn't it?" James shouted back.

Alex stared sideways at him. Yes, it was.

"I'm not going to forget this birthday!" he told him.

"What?" James shouted

Alex put his mouth next to James's ear and repeated himself and at the same time, guiltily inhaled the scent of James. No matter what he'd told himself about this trip, it was difficult not to give in to temptation. He saw the looks that people gave them and he thrilled to the thought that they were seen as together. That James was his. The man was beautiful…irresistible…

Enough.

"Shall we take the Journey Behind the Falls?"

* * *

The expedition had taken most of the afternoon and then they'd had dinner at the Skylon Tower and returned to their room. Rusty had had James smile his way through it all. Somehow this was harder than working at Larner's or visiting Mr Fitzwilliam. Keeping up the part when there was just the two of them was draining as hell. Worse, he couldn't help little bits of himself seeping through - an odd true anecdote, a like or a dislike - and every time he did, it was like giving up something precious that he wasn't going to be able to get back again.

He watched Alex run the Jacuzzi in front of the roaring fire and gritted his teeth. It was just a part. He could handle it at Larner's, he could handle it at Mr Fitzwilliam's: he could sure as hell handle it here in Niagara.

The only thing was, there was something about Alex that he couldn't quite fathom. He'd thought that Alex would have taken every opportunity to enjoy himself but Alex…Well. That was what sharing a Jacuzzi was all about.

"I always fancied having one of these installed back at Larner's," Alex admitted as they stripped off and climbed in, letting the water bubble round them.

James reached back and grabbed the champagne bottle, pouring them both a glass. "What's stopping you?"

"Oh, Constantine wouldn't-" Alex broke off and sipped thechampagne. "Maybe we could look at it. Bubbles and bubbles. It's kind of fun."

James smiled. "I think fun is to be encouraged."

He leaned back in the water, gazing up at Alex under his lashes and waited. Normally, Alex's pupils would dilate and his breathing would start to hitch and then there'd be…

Alex closed his eyes and took a deep breath then opened them again.

"There's fun and there's serious, right?"

Rusty's heart started to sink. It had only been a few weeks. Nowhere near long enough to-

"I want you to know I-I am serious about you. About us."

No. Please,no.

Alex put the glass down and his hand reached out and brushed Rusty's fingers. "Tell me this feels right to you too."

"I…" Rusty blinked. "I don't want to be anywhere else."

He'd said the same thing to Constantine and it had sounded so much more convincing. He needed something else. The words bubbled up to his lips and he thought of Ed and he could say them. He _could._ They were only words. They didn't mean anything. They didn't… Rusty swallowed.

"I…I…" The words felt like pebbles in his throat. He couldn't. He settled for "I came back for you."

By the look on Alex's face, it was enough. Alex leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips and it tasted… Rusty barely suppressed the shudder.

"Come on." Alex stood up and held out his hand, helping James out of the water and offering him a towel.

Dried off, they laid in bed and watched the dying flames play. Alex's head was next to his on the pillow and Alex's arm was draped round him and Rusty waited for the inevitable but still it didn't come. The anticipation was killing.

Alex kissed his shoulder.

"Let's get some sleep."

"Sleep?" The word flew involuntarily from Rusty.

Alex chuckled into his hair. "Sleep. After all, it's not all about the sex, is it?"

Rusty stared at the fire. Wasn't it?

* * *

Thankfully, Alex hadn't said anything more in the morning. There'd been no more talk about what they might mean to each other and there'd been no sex either despite James giving all the right signals. Rusty didn't understand what was holding Alex back. If he'd wanted some kind of reassurance from James, hadn't he offered that?

Saturday turned into a day of tourist sights and sounds and a cinema showing a double bill of _"Niagara"_ and _"The Seven Year Itch"._ Rusty was pretty sure that Alex didn't even like Marilyn Monroe films but he'd been the one to suggest it and Rusty had said yes at once. Three or four hours of being able to lose himself. To lose James. Of being able to sit in the dark and not having to talk…

Later and they were sat side by side on the couch, room service eaten and drinking red wine in front of some mindless rerun of_ "Happy Days"._ He'd watched this episode in Italy with Ed just before the Bulgari job. He'd grinned at the dubbed characterisation and Ed hadn't understood in the slightest.

_"I haven't seen theoriginal," Ed had protested._

_"Ah, you haven't lived, kid."_

Ed. He closed his eyes for a moment and he could feel the horror of holding the corpse and seeing the pain inflicted. For him. For _him._ He wasn't worthy. He hadn't treated Ed right and now he'd never get the chance-

Alex's hand squeezed his and Rusty's eyes fluttered open.

"You thinking about Ed?"

Immediately, Rusty's face locked down.

"Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn't have…just that I can read your moods."

Rusty stared at him for a long moment and then exhaled slowly, burying the shock.

"I'm sorry," he managed. "I didn't mean to spoil…" He waved a hand vaguely at the room.

Alex smiled at him. "It's fine. I just want you to be comfortable."

Comfortable. Right. Well, he was feeling fucking _un_comfortable at themoment. Things were way too raw. But there was something he could do about that.

James pulled the glass out of Alex's fingers and leaned forward purposefully, driving his mouth against Alex's, seeking oblivion in the kiss. Alex pulled away after a moment or two and Rusty couldn't help the frown.

"Don't you want to fuck?" James asked huskily, letting the tip of his tongue part his lips. "I've got the all clear, remember? Don't you want to see what that feels like?"

Alex licked his lips and swallowed hard. "We're not going to do that until I've got my results back. I told you, James. It's a two-way thing."

"Fine. I've got plenty of condoms." James's mouth was on Alex's again. "You're wearing far too many clothes, you know."

"Hey…hey!" Alex pulled away. "Steady. Look, there's something I want to do for you." Alex reached out and caressed Rusty's cheek. "Please."

There was meaning in the word and the gesture and Rusty felt himself freeze inside. He couldn't do that any more than he could say what Alex wanted to hear. _(Could he?)_

There was a sadness in Alex's eyes. "Please," he said again. "I just want to make you feel comfortable."

Some sort of sex had to be better than none. And if they got naked, he was certain James could be persuasive enough.

"What…" Rusty took a deep breath. "What did you have in mind?"

* * *

_"Happy Days" _was still playing. That was the stupid thing. Must be some kind of marathon. The volume was turned down but as Rusty lay face down on the bed, he could still make out the pauses for the gags to hit. A laugh every thirty seconds or so by his reckoning.

"How's that?" Alex murmured somewhere above and behind him.

"S'nice," James replied.

Body oil was being worked systematically into his skin. Alex had started with his shoulders and moved down his back then moved on to his legs and now was back upon his shoulders.

"You warm enough?"

"Yes, thanks."

"You're very tight," Alex told him. "Lots of tension."

No shit. Thumbs dug into the muscle and Rusty winced.

"Sorry. But it will feel better."

It did. Damn it. Desperately, Rusty focused on the TVand the sit-com. He didn't want to feel relaxed. He didn't want to let go of the stress. He…he…

Alex's fingers suddenly slipped inside him. Finally. Rusty let out an audible sigh of relief. He could cope with the sex. He could… The fingers moved with deliberation and his thoughts came skidding to a halt. This wasn't… Oh, fuck.

He wriggled free and turned over, glaring at Alex who let out a guilty sigh.

"You sounded like you were enjoying it," Alex said sheepishly.

Had he? He thought of the noise he'd made. He could see how that could be misinterpreted. Speechless, he looked at Alex again.

"You ready to tell me the reason why?" Alex asked softly.

He had to answer. He opened James's mouth and then closed it again. It had to be good. It had to be believable.

"The first guy I was with taught me what to do," Rusty said slowly. "It felt…like nothing I'd ever felt before. And no one's ever wanted anything different."

"Till now," Alex pointed out. "I get that you're scared, James. But that guy was wrong not to show you the pleasure's mutual. And everyone else was wrong not to want to show you that. Please. Let me. Where are the condoms?"

"In the bathroom," Rusty whispered.

Alex smiled at him. "I'll be back."

Heart racing, Rusty watched him disappear and then made agrab for his jacket and his phone. He had to call someone. He had to… Danny…There was a text waiting and automatically he opened it.

_"Call me. Carter."_

Carter. Yes. Carter. Except…Carter wouldn't understand. Danny wouldn't either but…

The bathroom door opened and he dropped the phone and looked up to see Alex approaching. He couldn't do this. He had to do this. He…he…

"Are you OK?" Alex asked, concern in his voice.

"I…I need to go freshen up," he stammered and bolted for the bathroom.

He locked the door and just made it to the toilet bowl in time. Shaking, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and kept it pressed there as if any noise was going to give him away.

Fuck.

Fuck.

* * *

Outside, Alex stared uneasily at the closed door. The retching… He lifted his hand to knock and enquire if there was anything he could do then he lowered it again. Maybe he'd done enough.

He walked back to the bed and smiled to himself as he saw James's jacket in an untidy heap. The man didn't have a tidy bone in his body. He picked it up and as he did so, he saw that James's phone had slipped out of his pocket. Alex frowned. Didn't look quite like James's phone. It was unlocked and he hesitated. It was James's business if he had two phones. Maybe he'd got a new phone and not told Alex. Alex glanced at the still shut bathroom door and then back down at the cellphone.

"What the hell," he murmured and ran his thumb over the control panel.

The text made his mouth drop open. Carter? Who the hell was _Carter?_ Why did he want James to call him? Frantically, Alex scrolled back through previous messages.

_"Carter, I'm fine. I just need some time alone. Please don't call me."_

Alex let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Seemed like James at least wasn't eager for Carter to get in touch. Someone he'd been seeing before Alex, maybe? Someone who wouldn't take no for an answer?

Blindly, he opened up another text and fuck, that was a room number…

The sound of the bathroom door unbolting galvanised him into switching back to the text from Carter and dropping the phone into James's jacket.

"Alex. I'm sorry. I just…"

Alex looked at James's face, so pale and troubled.

"It's fine. Just come here and let me hold you, will you?"

He wrapped his arms around James and kissed his hair. James was his. And he wasn't letting go without a fight.


	60. Fall

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own any part of Oceanworld

A/N: anyone else notice that this fic is sixty chapters long and still not finished?

A/N: also birthday fic. This time of a late nature. :)

Chapter Sixty: Fall

* * *

There had been dreams. Half-dreams where he was falling down into darkness and there was no one to catch him. Half-dreams where there was fog and no way through it. Nothing bad enough to wake him but when he did open his eyes, Rusty felt like he'd had no rest at all. He turned onto his back and found Alex was already awake, resting his head on his elbow and gazing down at him.

"Hi," he said and Alex flicked him a smile.

"Hi."

"You been up long?"

"Long enough to think about last night."

Last night. Rusty could feel the tension rising in his body. He hadn't been ready for this then and he wasn't ready for it now and yet he couldn't think how to avoid the damn subject.

Alex grimaced. "I'm sorry. I really am. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to put any pressure on you… I got this wrong." He reached out and traced Rusty's cheekbone. "I just…" Alex's face tightened. "You're so special to me, James. I just…"

James cut him off with a kiss and the vehemence with which it was returned took Rusty aback. Alex was always eager, demanding in his own way, but there was an edge to this, an insistence that he didn't understand. The kiss deepened and Alex moved on top of him, covering his body with his. Rusty stared up at the ceiling as Alex bent his head to kiss James's neck. Felt like Alex's interest was reawakened… oh… yes… he could definitely feel it was reawakened.

* * *

Later and Alex ran a hand down James's naked flank and smiled then padded off to the bathroom.

As soon as the door was shut, Rusty rummaged in his jacket pocket. Carter's text had nagged at him all the way through the sex. Impossible to read tone in a text. Anger that he hadn't been in touch? Anxiety? He didn't care so much if it was about himself but was it _Danny? _In his mind's eye, he could see the image of Danny, limbs in plaster, jaws wired, stitched and suffering, lying in that damn hospital bed, drifting between nightmares… What if there had been complications? What if he'd gone back into surgery? Wasn't like Rick was going to tell him.

His fingers couldn't unlock the phone fast enough and then he saw the missed call and the message waiting. Rusty shot a look at the bathroom door. Still closed. He listened to the voicemail.

_"This is Carter. Why haven't you been in touch?"_

Oh, the anger was _ripplingly _alive.

_"I can't believe you haven't called. What game do you think you're playing?"_

A long pause.

_"I know I can't make you…please…" _ The anger died away._ "Please."_

The message ended and Rusty exhaled. He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. The worry in Carter's voice had outweighed the anger. Rusty closed his eyes. He didn't ask for the concern and he didn't like the way the concern reminded him of Saul and…of Saul. Just Saul.

He opened his eyes again. He should make the call. He should tell Carter he was fine and he heard his own voice in his head and he could make it convincing.

Except…

Except that Carter was Carter. And Carter wouldn't let it lie. A text. A simple text would do the job. But Carter had sounded-

The bathroom door opened and Rusty magicked the phone out of sight. There was a look on Alex's face as he saw him clutching his jacket. He took a deep breath. Alex couldn't have seen anything. He'd been in time. And in any case, what was suspicious about holding his jacket?

"All done?" James asked brightly.

Alex walked over and stood in front of him, reaching out to brush his fingers down James's cheek.

"We could catch a later flight," Alex suggested and James smiled.

Seemed that they weren't done at all.

* * *

By the time the plane landed back in New York, Rusty had almost definitely made up his mind that he'd text Carter as he had before. Something placating, something to offer reassurance because he didn't think he was ready to talk to Carter just yet. At least it hadn't seemed to be about Danny. Carter's emotion had been solely focused on him.

The text would have to wait till Alex wasn't around. Alex had already asked him if everything was OK because he'd seemed so distracted. Rusty had had James make some vague comment about being sorry to leave Niagara behind and that seemed to satisfy Alex, even if he was being unnecessarily and unusually tactile. Sticking close to James as if he was frightened James was going to get on another plane or go off with another man. No, the text had to wait. He'd send it from Larner's once they were back and he got a moment to himself.

In New York, the airport was busy. Rusty stood with Alex in a long line at the taxi rank as the crowds milled around them. Business-men…families…tourists… Rusty found himself staring at a Japanese tourist leaning up against a wall, camera in hand, just like the one he'd seen outside Larner's. Rusty's eyes narrowed. It was the _same _tourist. And Rusty didn't believe in coincidences like that. His hand was on Alex's elbow in an instant and he was turning, looking for escape. As Alex let out a yelp of surprise, Rusty was already shouldering his way forward, ignoring protests and opening a cab door, pushing Alex inside the cab, into safety.

As Rusty made to follow him, a fist buried itself solidly into his kidneys and he staggered. Then heavy hands dragged him back and away. Rusty's hand was bunching into a fist but before he could land a punch, there was the sound of screeching tyres behind him. More hands and he found himself sprawling on the floor of a van. He started to struggle to his feet but weight slammed into his back and kept him down.

"You ain't going nowhere, sunshine," a distinctly British voice told him as the van pulled away.

* * *

The journey seemed to take hours. They hadn't hurt him but they'd blindfolded and gagged him and when they eventually arrived wherever they were going, they manhandled him into somewhere that echoed. Inside. Stone floor. Hands on his arms.

"Let's get you comfortable," the Brit suggested. "Sit down."

Rusty didn't move and there was a sigh.

"Look, mate, I got orders not to harm you but I am gonna have to insist."

Still Rusty didn't move. There wasn't another request. A kick took his legs out and he overbalanced, falling back on to hard and plastic: at once, his wrists were lashed behind him and his ankles tied to the legs of a chair.

"We got a bit of a wait, mate," the Brit said pleasantly, putting something soft behind his back. "Have me jacket."

Fuck knew what this was about. Fuck knew how long he'd been here. His internal body clock and his empty stomach suggested it was now late evening. The blindfold and the gag were still in place and so were the ropes, knotted tightly but not cruelly. Rusty pulled not for the first time at the knots: no give however fiercely he tried. Fuck.

His captors were still present, a little way away, low murmurs and the occasional laugh. At one point, Rusty had managed to tip the chair over, falling sideways onto the stone floor. Footsteps and padded over and the Brit had righted him with a chuckle.

"Just be patient, won't ya?"

Something he never did well.

* * *

It was an eternity until there was evidently a new arrival. Some discussion off-centre that even though he strained, he couldn't hear properly. Footsteps approached him again. This time, the blindfold was taken away and Rusty blinked up at a face he didn't know.

"Mikey, who the fuck is this?" the newcomer demanded.

"Alex," Mikey – the Brit – replied automatically, a note of surprise in there that the man could think anything differently.

_Alex?_ They thought he was _Alex?_

"It's Alex Taylor, boss," one of the others said.

"No, it's not," came the retort.

"But Lee's been watching Larner's," Mikey frowned. He gestured sideways towards the Japanese tourist that was obviously anything but. "You sure?"

The look shot in Mikey's direction said that the man was sure.

"Sat in a room often enough with the Taylor brothers," the man muttered unhappily.

"You want me to kill him?" Lee asked tersely.

Rusty tensed. Evidently Lee believed in taking care of his mistakes. Oh, he couldn't die here. He couldn't die here being cast aside like some sort of trash… Time hung and Rusty focused on the eyes of the man in charge, doing his best to read the intent. There was a long moment and then the man gestured and the gag was pulled out of Rusty's mouth.

"Alright. Let's find out. Who the fuck _are_ you?"

Before Rusty could say anything, fingers dug his wallet out.

_"James Gallagher," _the man read and then he looked at Rusty afresh, exclaiming, "You're Alex's latest squeeze!"

How the hell…?

The man looked thoughtful. "This could work too."

He looked at Rusty. "You have any idea who I am?

Someone who knew Constantine and Alex, someone in charge of men, someone who knew whom _he_ was pretending to be…somewhere in Rusty's head, realisation blazed.

"Trey?" he managed.

The man's face tightened. "Yeah. Now listen."

* * *

It was erring towards morning when they dumped him on the sidewalk near Larner's. Trey reached out and sliced through his bonds.

"You remember what we discussed," Trey warned and then the van was gone.

Breathing heavily, Rusty leant up against the wall of the auction house. Abduction and mistaken identity: how the hell had he managed to sign up to this? As he shook his head to clear it, there was an exclamation off to his right and he turned his head to see Davey scuttling towards him, squealing into a mobile phone.

"Easy, James, easy." Davey dragged Rusty's arm around his shoulder, dragging him towards the elevator. "I'll help you."

* * *

Alex was waiting for him at the top, smothering him in fretful anxiety as he led him towards Constantine's suite.

"Thank God! Are you OK? Did they hurt you? You've been gone so long! Are you alright?"

"James." Constantine was waiting. "We've got people out looking for you. What happened?"

Alex helped him into a chair and thrust a whisky into his hand. Rusty sipped it gratefully. Alex caught up his free hand and ran his fingers over the rope marks on his wrist.

"Bastards!" Alex muttered, spitting the word.

"James," Constantine said again with urgency. "Start talking."

"It was Trey," Rusty said heavily. "He wanted to get a message to you and he thought this was one way you would listen."

"He's certainly got my attention," Constantine commented, frowning at Rusty's wrists. "What's the message?"

"He wants a truce," Rusty recited. "He wants you to stop sending out the search parties and to draw a line underneath what happened. He wants me to tell you that he regrets the death of your man and the injuries of the other." He broke off and took another sip of whisky. "He doesn't want to have you as an enemy."

Constantine grunted. "Too late for that." He nodded at Alex. "Take him and put him to bed. Look after him," he added as an afterthought.

"I'm fine," Rusty protested. "They didn't hurt me."

There was another grunt and this time there was more than a little dismissal in there.

"Come on," Alex murmured and led him away.

* * *

There had been reassurance and kisses and tenderness lavished on him and eventually, eventually, Rusty'd drifted off to sleep in Alex's arms. He'd slept lightly, stirring often, and Alex was there, to hold him, to comfort him, to whisper soft words intended to send him back to sleep. Instead, he lay with his heart thumping and rest seemed a luxury he couldn't afford.

* * *

Rusty woke with a start and found himself alone in the bed. He propped himself up on one elbow, his head aching.

"Alex?" he called out. There was no reply. There was no Alex.

A little box of truffles was on the side on top of a scribbled note. He reached over and eased it out from underneath the chocolates.

_"I've gone uptown. I'll see you this evening. Alex. PS You look gorgeous when you're asleep."_

Rusty let out a sigh and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Even when Alex was nowhere in sight, it felt like he was there. He ran a hand over his face. Didn't seem like sleep had done anything to ease the feeling of exhaustion swamping him. Felt like he'd been caught up in this since forever. Absent-mindedly, he rubbed at his wrist and winced at the soreness of the ropeburn. That was going to take a day or two to fade.

Rusty checked his watch. Shit. It was gone two o'clock; he'd slept way into the afternoon. He shrugged on his suit and felt the phone in his jacket pocket. Carter. He'd almost forgotten. How could he forget? Well, he was on his own and he could text…he could call…he could… He could call. He _would_ call. He dialled the number. Right now, he wanted to hear Carter's voice almost more than anyone else's in the world.

_"The number you have dialled is not available. Please try later."_

Rusty stared at the phone. _ Huh. _ He'd been so wound up to make the call, he hadn't thought about Carter not being there to answer. He hesitated for a brief moment and then he punched in Danny's number before he could talk himself out of it. Danny. He could…actually, he didn't know what he was going to say but somehow that didn't matter. What mattered was-

_"The number you have dialled is not available. Please try later."_

Oh, this was fucking _ridiculous. _Where the hell was everyone?

Rusty closed his eyes and grimaced. Well, he didn't have a lot of choice. He opened his eyes again and made the call. Rick answered on the first ring.

"Yes?"

Terse and abrupt, even more so than usual.

"Rick?" Rusty licked his lips. "Is…is everything OK? I couldn't raise Carter or… Is everything alright?"

Silence.

Rusty took a deep breath. "I just wanted to check we were still on for tomorrow."

"Just be there," Rick told him, his voice low and barely audible.

The line went dead and Rusty felt the weight on his soul grow impossibly heavier.

* * *

Downstairs, Rusty found the auction hall near empty. He sat down at his desk and James smiled at Jennie sitting next to him. She flicked a smile back at him but her air was subdued like she'd had an awkward customer who'd been unreasonable and rude. Rusty felt for the box of four truffles in his pocket and opened it up.

"Here."

He offered her one and Jennie took it with another flick of a smile, biting into it, eating it without joy.

Rusty frowned and opened his mouth for James to spin some line to lighten the mood but one look at Jennie and words died away.

"What's happened?" Rusty asked.

Jennie looked like she was ready to burst into tears.

"Oh, James…it's so awful…"

The tears started down her cheeks and she rubbed them away angrily.

Rusty reached out and took her hand. "Come on. Let's go grab a coffee."

They barely made it to the staff-room before Jennie dissolved into a full flood of tears. Rusty dug out a clean handkerchief to hand to her and found a cup of cappuccino to press into her hands, waiting patiently. At last the sobs died down to a shuddering stop and Jennie wiped her face and took a deep breath.

"The police were here."

"The police?" Rusty repeated, his mind racing. Had they found out what was going on underneath the surface of Larner's? Was everything about to come crashing down around them?

Jennie's face crumpled and then uncrumpled again as she fought and won mastery of her emotions.

"They found Alisha." Jennie looked at him. "You remember I told you about Alisha? She had the job-"

"-before I did," Rusty finished. He knew Alisha. "What do you mean they found her?"

Jennie's bottom lip trembled. "She's dead. They found her body in her apartment. She'd been _murdered."_

The tears started again. Dully, Rusty stared at her. Alisha had been killed? Somewhere he could hear Alex's voice telling him that he'd hated what had happened with Alisha. He'd thought that was about Alisha being sacked. Horror ran over him in cold waves. They hadn't planned this. They hadn't wanted this. In his mind's eye, he could see Lloyd or Tony or Brady running a knife across her throat and he let out an involuntary noise of revulsion.

"I know," Jennie sniffed. "And she wasn't even a close friend of mine but I'd sat next to her for such a long time and we'd talk about the movies and magazines and guys." She sniffed again. "One of the cops let slip that she's been dead _weeks._ Isn't it _horrible?"_

Rusty nodded. That was an understatement. He struggled to voice the question he had to ask.

"Did the police say what leads they had?"

"No…" Jennie shook her head. "They just wanted to talk to everyone who was here when Alisha was. To see if they could think of anyone who might want to harm her."

She managed a watery smile. "Don't worry. They won't want to talk to you."

* * *

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. James had one client and Rusty couldn't remember what plastic words James had said or what valuation he'd given. All that was running through his head was the shock of what had happened with Alisha.

He remembered sitting in Maria's flat, hacking into the auction and sending the inflated bids down the wire to cause consternation and chaos. Not just for the fake Dollar. Not just for the other lots that Alisha had put into the auction. All those other fake bids that targeted the money-laundering activity at Larner's…had they really been necessary? Sitting on the couch, staring at the screen, with Danny at his side…it had felt…it had been overwhelming. Had he been showing off? Had he been trying to impress Danny? Had he got so caught up in it all that he'd pushed things too far?

Rusty rubbed his eyes. The answer was that he just didn't know. That day of the auction and the con seemed a lifetime ago. Ed had still been alive, Danny had still been whole and James and Alex had just been a fucking one night stand.

Alisha. Teresa. Ed. And further back, Mitch and Saul. He was the bringer of death.

* * *

Larner's was closing up when Davey came scurrying in, standing panting at James's desk.

"Mr Taylor sent me. Mr Constantine. He wants you upstairs."

Of course he did. As if in a dream, Rusty trailed after Davey up to Constantine's office where Tony and Constantine were deep in conversation.

"Come in, James and sit down," Constantine instructed, waving him to join them.

Rusty did as he was told.

_"We got a situation, James, that we need to address and I would like to think you might help us."_

Constantine was talking and the words washed over Rusty.

It was like he didn't own his body. Like he was somewhere watching this scene unfurl. Everything that was going on…it was like slowed down film, the conversation rippling around him.

_"Nelson has found the men who killed Mason. The men who put Wes in hospital. The men who kidnapped you."_

Tony, perched on the edge of the desk and Constantine, behind it. Rusty didn't meet either of their gazes. _Couldn't_ meet either of their gazes.

_"We need to make this right. We need to make sure that this doesn't happen again. No more death."_

No. No more death.

_"Need back-up, James. Just in case it all goes south."_

Part of Rusty registered the fact that for Tony, he was _"Mr Gallagher"_ with gentle deference when he was with Alex and he was _"Mr Gallagher"_ with polite authority when he was working and here and right now, he was _"James"_. One of Tony's men.

_"Like I said, I'd like to think you can help us."_

A gun appeared on the desk in front of him.

_"Do you know how to handle a gun?"_

Saul. Mitch. Willoughby. He knew how to handle a gun. For one glorious moment, he imagined grabbing the gun and burying the bullet in Constantine's forehead. Maybe he could even get the shot off before Tony reacted. Maybe.

_"Someone hurts one of my own, I do something about it. James…are you with us?"_

The question brought him back into the room.

"Are you with us?" Constantine said again.

Was he with them? _Was _he…? Rusty's mouth was dry. Could he do what they were asking of him? Did he have any choice?

He started to open his mouth and then the door swung open and Alex walked in.

"I've got the pick-up from Connor-" he broke off and stared at the three of them. "What's going on?"

None of them replied.

"James?" Alex frowned.

Words froze in his throat. Rusty could only manage a weak little half-smile and Alex's frown grew.

"What's going on, Constantine?" Alex demanded and his voice was like ice.

Constantine pushed his chair back and waved a dismissive hand. Tony slid off the desk and stood upright.

"I asked a question," Alex said and the glare on his face was focused on Constantine.

His brother gave a shrug. "We found out where the bastards are who hit Wes and Mason. The bastards who snatched your boyfriend. Tony's going after them."

"And what, you thought you'd take James along for the ride?" Alex's jaw suddenly dropped. "Is that a gun?"

Rusty saw Constantine suppressing a wince.

"Alex, it's expedient-" Constantine began.

"Expedient be damned!" Alex reached out a hand and Rusty felt himself being pulled to his feet. "Come on, James!"

They'd barely made it out the door before Alex was apologising.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Alex was plastering kisses on his face. "I'm so, so sorry. He should never…he shouldn't…I'm so sorry."

More kisses. More apology.

Enough.

"Leave me alone," Rusty whispered. He raised his eyes to Alex's horrified face. "I need to be alone."

* * *

Somehow he made it into the elevator and down on to the street and out into the cold early evening air. Part of him was aware that Alex hadn't tried to stop him and hadn't actually followed him which was a surprise and a blessing. Not that he knew where he was headed. All that was driving him was _out_ and _away._

He didn't know how long he'd walked before he stepped inside the cheap-looking hotel. The man on the desk was shrouded in cigarette smoke with a bottle of whisky beside him and didn't even glance up from his paper as Rusty laid his money down. Just slapped a set of room keys next to the cash. Rusty scooped them up and then through down another fifty and picked up the whisky too.

The room was shabby with an excuse for a blind at the window and a bed that looked like it hadn't been made up fresh since the previous Presidency. Rusty didn't give a damn. He sat down heavily on the bed and took a swig of the whisky. His head ached.

He glanced at the sink in the corner and headed over to it so that he could splash water on his face. There was barely a trickle coming out of the tap but he made the most of it. Straightening up, he caught sight of the man in the mirror. Lost and vulnerable and filled with self-loathing and pain. It was no one he recognised. He forced himself to look harder. At eyes that hated what they saw. At everything underneath the surface that was bubbling to get out.

He had no idea how he'd ended up trapped and caged. He had no idea how he'd given up so much of himself in such a short space of time. He had no idea how it was going to stop. And he wanted it to stop so very much. Alex and Constantine and Tony and the sex and the violence and the lying and the game-playing and the play-acting and the intrigue and the death and the hell of it all…

Abruptly, he threw up into the sink, retching and retching until there was nothing left to bring up. He dragged a hand over his mouth. He didn't remember eating today. He didn't remember the last time he _had _eaten. Niagara? He knew he wasn't hungry. He looked at the nearly full bottle of whisky on the table by the bed. Right now, he was just looking for oblivion.

* * *

The morning light woke Rusty and he sat up too quickly, groaning as he did so. The smell of vomit was in the air mixing with the taste of stale booze in his mouth and he shuddered. Not the best way to rise and shine. He stood up carefully and straightened his clothes, a thought nagging at him as he did so. There was something…something he should remember.

He padded down the stairs throwing the keys back on the desk together with another twenty for the mess that needed to be cleared up and as he walked out on to the sidewalk it hit him. Tuesday. The diner. Rick.

He looked down at the crumpled suit and ran a hand over the stubble, wincing at the alcohol he could smell on himself. Shit, not again. Rick would have a field day.

* * *

Rusty was late to the diner by a few minutes. Enough to annoy him. Enough to look at the table in the corner and to see that Rick had beaten him to the seat he preferred, the one that gave him the best view of the diner. He would have been more annoyed but in truth, he was just so pleased to see Rick there. Somewhere at the back of his mind had been the whisper that maybe Rick wouldn't show. Rusty ordered a strong black coffee and headed over to the table, sitting down opposite, ready to hear all the snark and the digs. The mood he was in, he didn't care.

Except that there was someone sitting next to Rick at the adjacent table, hidden from view until Rusty was almost upon them. Rusty stopped short, feeling the smile well up inside him until it was bursting out of him with happiness he had no right to.

"Danny…" He gave a half-laugh as he sank into the chair opposite Danny. He was there. Danny was _there. _"Danny…you're OK…you're…Danny…"

The smile faded in the heat of the white-hot anger radiating across the table at him. Danny smiled a smile all of his own.

"So tell me. What the fuck's been going on?"

* * *

A/N: acknowledging the Tom Hagen and thanks to otherhawk for the pre-read.


	61. Funeral

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: not mine, not mine.

Chapter Sixty-one: Funeral

* * *

Danny sat numbly in the back of the car headed towards the crematorium, staring out of the car window at trees and streets and people as they passed. He saw nothing. And part of that was down to the fact that he was following his wife's coffin. Part of it…

Rusty hadn't shown. Rusty hadn't even bothered to call. He was burying his wife and Rusty didn't give a damn.

The past three days he'd been waiting for Rusty to get in touch. He'd been sure Rusty would get in touch. He might only have known Rusty for a handful of weeks but he'd felt he'd_ known_ him. What they'd shared with each other…all the confidences, all the_ what was_ and all the_ what might be…_

Danny had waited. Not all that patiently. He'd phoned again but Rusty still had his phone turned off so he'd sent another text with the time and the place of the funeral – explicit details that couldn't be ignored - and waited for the response. There'd been no response. Rick had been solicitous, hovering around him,watching anxiously every time Danny's cell phone rang. Rick knew he was waiting for an answer too.

Carter seemed to think he'd got one. Carter had called about something, some detail to do with the funeral and he'd asked when Rusty was arriving. Danny's silence had been enough to tell Carter not to press the point. Not to suggest that maybe Rusty was in Europe. That maybe Rusty's phone had no signal. That maybe Rusty was sick. That maybe he had laryngitis and had lost the use of his fingers. Maybe. Maybe Rusty just didn't care. Danny had his pride. He wasn't going to call again. And somewhere inside he'd felt a little colder.

Danny gave a silent sigh. It shouldn't be affecting him as much as it was. He glanced sideways at Rick sat next to him, fidgeting with his collar and tie. Rick._ This_ was what friendship felt like.

* * *

Standing at the door to the crematorium with Rick at his side, Danny leant on a stick and waited to greet the small party from the second car that was making its way towards him. Scott and Reuben and Carter and Felicity. Danny smiled and then opened and closed his mouth experimentally. He'd had the wire ripped out of his jaw this morning and it still felt weird. He hadn't shaved off the beard yet: he was a little afraid of what he'd find underneath and he hadn't trusted his hands not to shake.

He watched as Carter helped Felicity up the few steps towards them.

_"Danny!" Felicity had smiled at him earlier as she'd arrived at the house and he hugged her._

_"It's good to see you again, Felicity," he said warmly. "Thanks for coming all this way."_

_"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Felicity said and her face crinkled up. "As if I wouldn't come."_

And that was the truth of it. All the people who cared were here. All the people that mattered were here.

* * *

Scott and Carter were the last ones walking up the steps into the crematorium.

"So Rusty just hasn't got in touch?" Scott murmured.

"No," Carter replied. "Danny's tried and I've tried…"

Scott was silent and Carter knew he was drawing the same conclusions he was. Either Rusty wasn't willing to make contact or he wasn't able.

"Which do you think it is?" Scott asked as they walked into the building.

"I don't know," Carter said honestly. "Once upon a time, it would have been impossible for Rusty not to be here. The boy I knew… But after Saul and Mitch died…he's changed. He always had this self-sufficient streak but now it's like he _wants_ to cut other people out of his life. Even people who want to help him."

Scott nodded. "Frustrating."

"Immensely."

"So he could have decided that it's more trouble than he wants to invest in Danny-"

"-or he could have decided that waiting for Danny is more trouble than it's worth," Carter finished grimly.

They took their seats next to Felicity and Reuben and listened to the minister's gentle opening remarks about a young girl taken before her time. Carter felt Scott's hand squeeze his arm and he laid his own hand on Scott's. They'd been to too many funerals: some were just more painful than others.

* * *

Rick shuffled in the pew next to Danny. Truth be told, he'd been more than a little nervous that Golden Boy might show up at the house. Wasn't just Danny who wanted him there, after all. Rick wouldn't put it past Carter or Reuben even to make that call. Yeah, Rick had been holding his breath every time the phone rang or there was someone at the door. He could picture Rusty breezing in and smiling at Danny and Danny smiling back like they were the only two people in the fucking world and Rick would be out in the cold.

Still. It had gotten to the day of the funeral and Rusty hadn't shown. Reuben had arrived and Scott and Felicity had turned up and then Carter had strode in, looking round for a Rusty who wasn't there. Rick had watched Carter's shoulders drop fractionally and Carter's mouth tighten infinitesimally. Oh, Carter had put on a smooth face of concern for Danny's sake but Rick could see beneath that. Golden Boy's absence had not gone down well with Saint Carter.

As the service started, Rick couldn't help the occasional glance over his shoulder. He stopped when he realised that Danny hadn't looked round once.

His gaze fell on Teresa's coffin. God, Teresa. Rick could still feel how she'd felt, how she'd made him feel. How much of a_ man_ she'd made him feel. God, he missed her. He thought about the last time they'd slept together and how incredible it had been. Right up to the point where Eduardo had come back and interrupted them.

The picture came to him of that last day at the airport with Eduardo and Golden Boy deep in conversation. Had Eduardo said something in spite of the threats? Dropped a few hints, maybe? Rusty hadn't said anything but then he hadn't said anything about that night with Anton and the dogs when he'd tried to drop him in it. He hadn't said anything about Rick sending over champagne to Alex. Rick wouldn't put it past him to store things up ready to bring them out at a time of his choosing. Fucking faggots. You couldn't trust them.

* * *

The service was simple and wonderful. Carter had arranged things perfectly. No sterile lilies but a riot of colourful flowers. No hymns. No depressing organ. There was some soaring, uplifting, amazing soundtrack playing. Something Danny could lose himself in. Something that felt like Teresa's soul was flying towards peace. It was a perfectchoice.

Eventually, the music faded and Danny rose to his feetand limped out to the front, putting his weight on the stick. He hadn't prepared any words. Somehow he knew the right words would justcome.

"Teresa." When he said her name, his voice was strong with love. "Teresa. You fell into my life and you were nothing I expected. Nothing I went looking for. And you were everything surprising."

_…a town in the middle of nowhere and heart-stopping beauty like a flower in the desert…_

"You were beautiful. You were so special to me." Danny choked slightly over the words. "You were all I wanted to come home to. All I wanted to work hard to protect."

He'd failed so badly. Primary duty number one and he'd brought danger and death to their home. To his _wife_. Danny blinked back the tears. This wasn't about him.

"You…" He swallowed.

_…were innocence and joy…_

"You were…"

_…beauty and trust…_

"You…"

From nowhere, there was a noise. A ring tone that startled. A phone ringing that was cut off almost as soon as it started. Rick, he realised. Rick looked guilty and apologetic and Danny flashed him a smile to say that it was alright, watching and waiting as Rick killed the call. It gave him a moment to gather himself before he continued.

"It was my honour, Teresa, to be your husband," Danny said thickly. "It was my privilege foryou to be my wife."

_To wake up to love and trust and everything that meant._

"To share my life with you, to hold you close, to be with you..."

He saw then.

Felicity and Reuben, crying openly.

Scott and Carter's faces twisted with a tangible pain that looked like it was overwhelming them.

Rick…was he wiping away a tear?

"Teresa," he said and there was _final_ and _farewell._

* * *

Danny didn't remember much about the rest of the service nor the journey back from the crematorium. But when they opened the door to the house, he found that Carter had been busy there too. Flowers that he didn't know the names of but which filled the house with a wonderful smell. Lovely, delicate flowers. And over at one side there was a table set up with cold meats and salads, with wine chilling and bottles of spirits ready,should anyone want a drink. It was like someone had waved a wand and produced magic.

"Carter…" Danny turned to him.

Carter squeezed his arm. "The least we could do."

Danny thanked him silently and turned back to the table. He needed a drink.

* * *

Time passed.

They all offered quiet words of comfort and memory. The time at the Xanadu when it was Teresa's birthday and there had been a cake with sparklers. The time when Teresa had made Danny a birthday cake with so many candles Felicity had thought they'd need a fire extinguisher.

"You were a good husband," Felicity said firmly. "Never forget that, Danny. You made her so happy."

Danny's face crumpled and straightened itself out again almost immediately. "Thank you,Felicity. And thank you for being such a good friend. To both of us."

"Oh, my dear boy…" Felicity blinked furiously and for a long moment, Danny thought she was going to dissolve into tears. He thought he might join her.

"Here." Carter's handkerchief was pushed into Felicity's hand and Reuben started telling a story about a Chihuahua running across a roulette table and the wave of full-on emotion died back down.

* * *

Time passed.

"How's Vegas?" Danny asked Reuben when they had a moment alone.

A shadow passed over Reuben's face. "It's OK. There's some stuff going down, I…look, I…" Something in Danny's expression encouraged him to continue. "There are some new guys in town and they're sharp. They need watching. I'm sorry, Danny."

"Why are you sorry?" Danny asked curiously.

"I should be here with you," Reuben said, full of self-blame. "I should be helping you."

"Reuben, haven't we had this conversation?" Danny smiled. "Focus on the Xanadu. I've got Rick here."

"Yeah." Reuben didn't look convinced. "I wish…" He trailed off.

Danny's smile tightened. Didn't they all.

"We'll be fine," he ground out. And then because he knew Reuben really was concerned, "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

"Impossible," Reuben told him. "I've been worrying about you since I canremember." He sighed. "Look after yourself, won't you?"

"Always," Danny assured him.

"Wish that was true," Reuben murmured.

* * *

Time passed.

Rick was in the middle of recounting the time when he'd first met Teresa and Carter stood up suddenly and excused himself. Danny followed him with his eyes as he moved to the back of the room.

_"Danny opened the door and there was this gorgeous woman…"_

Carter was masking his movements but…Danny sat a little straighter. Carter was on the phone. He knew Carter had turned his phone off for the service – he'd seen him do it at the house before they left -so he must have switched it back on and left it on vibrate. That meant he had a call. That meant…

_"…she was wearing this blue dress…"_

Danny's eyes were unblinkingly focused on Carter.

_"…didn't she, Danny– you remember? Danny?_ Danny?"

Danny started. He didn't have a clue what Rick was asking him. Instead, he watched as Carter walked back to join them. The question was in his eyes and he knew Carter couldn't help but read it.

Carter gave him an apologetic look. "That was Bobby Caldwell. He hoped to be here earlier to pay his respects. He's an hour or so away but hewanted to know if it was still OK for him to swing by."

Hope evaporated as quickly as it had flooded through him.

"Sure," Danny nodded. "Sure."

* * *

Time passed.

Felicity and Reuben had left with promises to keep in touch and Scott and Danny were sitting talking while Carter and Rick were refreshing their drinks. Danny saw a flicker of hesitation in Scott's eyes and he frowned.

"What is it?"

"Have…have you thought about what you want to do with your house?" Scott asked carefully.

His house. Their home. Memories in every room, the happy now overridden with the horror and he hadn't really thought about it but now that the question was asked, he absolutely knew the answer.

"I can't go back," Danny said tightly.

Carter had overheard. "Have you got anything there?"

"He's got a bunch of stuff there!" Rick had overheard too. "TV and a sound system and a music centre…tell him, Danny."

Danny was silent for a long moment and then he raised his eyes to Carter's. "There's nothing."

Carter nodded. "If you'd like, I could clear it," he offered gently. "Put things into storage. Talk to some real estate people I know. They're not all sharks."

He should be doing this. He should be organising the next steps of his life. But to be honest, he didn't feel like he had the energy for the domestic. All the drive he had, he was going to focus on targeting Teresa's killers. He wasn't completely convinced there was going to be a life after that. Danny found himself nodding.

"Thank you," he said and it was inadequate but it was all he had.

* * *

Time passed.

Scott had a flight to catch.

"Take care of yourself, Danny," he said, standing up. "I want to hear from you."

Danny looked at Scott's earnest face and nodded. He didn't want to lose touch again either.

And about five minutes after Scott had walked out the door, Bobby arrived.

"Danny," he smiled as he came into the room and he nodded at Rick and Carter. "I'm so sorry that I missed the service but I just couldn't get away. And I know it's late but I wanted to-"

"Thank you for coming," Danny said firmly.

"Alright." Bobby gave him a tired smile. "I'll stop apologising."

"Come and get some food," Carter offered. "I think there's some left."

Even Bobby. Bobby whom he'd met once before and then only briefly. Danny closed his eyes and the pain was a living thing inside his chest. It _hurt,_ damn it.

He opened his eyes and stared down at the whisky in his hand and took a sip. The whisky still tasted like he'd never tasted whisky before. Smooth and mellow and warming. Danny held the glass tightly and thought he would never take eating and drinking for granted again.

"Feels good?" Rick smiled at him.

Danny nodded.

"Bet it does. You'll be back to normal in no time, Danny."

Normal. Whatever that was.

* * *

Time passed.

Carter and Bobby stepped into the kitchen to make some hot drinks and tiredness suddenly washed over Danny.

"You look wiped out," Rick told him.

"Think I'm going to hit the sack."

Danny struggled up to his feet and limped towards the kitchen to say goodnight to Carter and Bobby. The door was ajar and as he raised his hand to push it further open, Bobby's voice floated softly out.

"I still haven't found him."

Danny froze, his hand in mid-air.

"I didn't know you were still looking." And there was relief in Carter's voice.

Danny's hand dropped down to his side and he realised he was holding his breath.

"I had this court case and I swear as soon as it was over, I went to look up Alisha."

"Wh-?" Rick appeared at Danny's side and Danny snapped his head round and glared him into silence.

"Did you find her?" Carter's voice, low and muted.

"I found her," Bobby replied heavily. "She'd been murdered and left lying on top of her bed."

Carter swore softly.

Danny remembered hearing about Alisha directly from Tony and felt the shudder of horror and guilt run through him once again. They'd never wanted that as an outcome. He should have realised that it was a possibility.

_"Alisha?"_ Rick mouthed, frowning and Danny realised that Rick didn't know about this. He nodded jerkily and then turned his attention back to the conversation in the kitchen.

"Work's just frantic at the moment," Bobby was saying. "I got back to the office and found we had a tip off last week that's led to us seizing a big weapons shipment. I'm letting one of the guys run with it so that I can focus on this."

Carter must have pulled a face because Bobby went on,"No, this is important. I want to find him."

Please. Yes. Please.

"I've got a friend on the NYPD who's leading the investigation into Alisha's death. He's shown me the reports so far."

"Has he got any leads?"

"Well, they've been to Larner's. Lots of shock and horror. Apparently, they let her go straight after the auction and they hadn't heard from her since. Terminating employment isn't usually that literal."

Except in this case it was.

Bobby continued, "To be honest, I can't see anyone there being involved. No one gains. Not unless you count the guy who's got her job, James Gallagher."

And with an offhand remark, the world stopped turning. Danny stared at the half-open door.

From far away, he could still hear Bobby's voice.

"I'm going after Anton. I figure I need to have a conversation with him before NYPD catch up with him."

Anton didn't matter.

Dimly, he registered pain and he glanced down at his hands, nails clenched into his palms. He raised his head and saw the look of raw horror on Rick's face. Rick felt it too.

Blindly, Danny staggered across to his bedroom and sank down on to the bed. His head was void of thought.

"You OK?" Rick had followed him in.

"Get rid of them," Danny said hoarsely. "Get them out of here."

Rick disappeared and Danny could hear brusque instructions being issued and maybe at some point he'd need to apologise for that. Right now… Curiously, he studied the red marks on his palms. Right now…

* * *

"They're gone," Rick announced coming back into the bedroom.

Danny grunted, his attention focused on his cell phone, fingers busy texting. "Bastard still isn't answering. I'm telling him what the fuck I think of him. And if he doesn't reply to that, I'm going in there to find him."

That couldn't be good. Danny needed to be far away from Larner's.

"I've spoken to Rusty," Rick blurted out.

Danny's head shot up.

"When?" he demanded.

"Earlier," Rick said and it was the truth. "He wasn't at the funeral and I…"

He trailed off. Let Danny think that was the reason. Let Danny think that he, Rick, had made the call to ask where Rusty was that was more important than Teresa's funeral. From the sudden pain that flashed on to Danny's face and off again, Danny was thinking exactly that.

"He said he wanted to meet me. Tomorrow morning at some diner in New York. I didn't want to say anything to you until I'd seen him but..."

Danny carefully laid the cellphone down midtext. "Alright. I'll come with you. Then I can tell him in person."

"Maybe I should go on my own,"Rick began. "He won't be expecting you-"

"Exactly." Danny's eyes were dark with a fierce anger that made Rick take a step back automatically. "I intend to find out precisely what's been going on."

* * *

He couldn't sleep. Dozing fitfully, he lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling and tried to think about what he was going to say when he saw Rusty. He tried. But every time he started to write the speech in his head, the words yielded to the incoherence and the fury.

Because there were no words.

* * *

Danny found himself sitting at the table in the diner and not for the first time, he was grateful for Rick. No way he could have made the journey to New York without Rick beside him. It had been Rick who'd scribbled a note for Carter; who'd sorted things out at the airport; who'd gotten him to the diner. Danny didn't think he could have done any of that himself. Rick had been mostly quiet during the trip which had been a good thing. Mentally, Danny wasn't in any place for small talk and what he did want to talk about was so _big_ that he didn't trust himself not to explode and it wasn't like Rick deserved that.

Rick had bought him a black coffee but Danny wasn't drinking it. He had half an ear on Rick, full of nervous laughter and inanity_…"He'll probably be scared of you"…"He'll probably say all sorts of things"…_ but he didn't reply. There was only one person he wanted to speak to.

And then he was there. Rusty was _there_. Smiling at him with this blinding smile as if dropping out of communication for weeks was somehow alright. As if setting foot anywhere near Larner's was something he, Danny, would approve of. As if ignoring Teresa's funeral was OK.

Rage consumed him. Rusty must have picked up on some of it because that idiotic smile he was wearing melted away. Good. Danny felt his own mouth curve and he impaled Rusty with the ferocity of his glare, daring him to look away. He leaned forward.

"So tell me. What the fuck's been going on?"


	62. Reunion

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: didn't create and don't own.

A/N: thank you as always to otherhawk for the pre-read. I know just how lucky Danny feels. ;)

A/N: was going to ask if anyone wanted a recap but I think the recap might be as long as the fic. :D

Chapter Sixty-two: Reunion

* * *

_**SomeWhere…SomeTime…**_

A roulette wheel was spinning, the numbers blurring as a solitary silver ball raced round the inner edge. Hair close-cropped, dark and severe, she watched it intently as it travelled.

"They are together again," a voice stated.

She raised burnished eyes in his direction.

"Not yet," she told him.

* * *

"So tell me. What the fuck's been going on?" The rage inside Danny didn't give Rusty the chance to answer. "_James Gallagher?_ Did you really think we wouldn't find out?"

Rusty's gaze slipped across to Rick and Danny slammed the flat of his hand down on the table, making the coffee cup jump and bringing Rusty's attention back to him.

"Did you really think you could hide from Rick and me?" he demanded, his voice, low and fierce. "Did you imagine that we wouldn't-?"

Danny saw Rusty's gaze start to slide across to Rick again and the white noise inside his head became impossibly louder.

"Stop looking at Rick like he's going to defend you!" he hissed. "Rick's as horrified as I am - he would _never_ do what you've done!"

"Damn right," Rick muttered with feeling.

Rusty glanced _again_ at Rick and then at Danny for a long moment, his eyes unreadable, and then he looked away, shaking his head with a soft laugh.

"Don't you dare dismiss him!" Danny said with a snarl, forcing Rusty to look at him. "Rick's everything you're not! All these weeks, Rick's been with me, looking after me. All these weeks while you've been notable by your absence."

Danny couldn't stop the hurt of abandonment flavouring his voice.

_All these weeks… _

There was something in Rusty's eyes then – a flash of guilt – and Danny's hurt faded away replaced by new outrage. How_ dare_ Rusty affect guilt? It was clear how little he'd thought of Danny. How little Danny mattered to him. How little he cared about Teresa.

"Bobby," he said harshly, answering the question that Rusty wasn't asking. "He's got so much shit happening at work – court cases, tip offs, some big weapons haul… He's parked all that to try and find _you_."

Because there were people – _other _people - who gave a damn about Rusty. His eyes told Rusty that he didn't count himself as one of them. Not even close.

"Instead, he found Alisha's body. We heard him telling Carter that the cops who were investigating came across a James Gallagher doing Alisha's job. Bobby and Carter haven't a clue that it's you."

Rusty's face remained impenetrable as Danny continued, the heat rising in his words.

"So what _was_ going through your head exactly? Fuck the idea of waiting at Danny's bedside? Fuck the idea of - what was it? – _"I won't deny you vengeance – I know how that feels"_-"

"No one's dead yet, are they?" Rusty interrupted, his tone cool.

Danny ignored him.

"Tell me, what was the plan here? "Fuck this, I don't want to hang around, I'm off to work at Larner's"?"

Rusty spoke with quiet precision. "I didn't go looking for a job."

Danny heard Rusty's words and saw Rusty's cold expression and understood everything Rusty wasn't saying. Horror suddenly washed over him, dousing the rage. He hadn't thought…he'd seen Rusty insinuating himself into Larner's as an employee and that had been more than enough to open up the well of incoherence…this wasn't… Rusty had _promised_…

"No…" Danny breathed. He shook his head in denial. "No."

Rusty's lips tightened. "Grow up, Danny. It was an easy in. The job was incidental."

"It stops now," Danny heard himself saying. His voice was rich with all the pain and anger that he'd felt the first time he realised what Rusty did to himself. "It stops _now."_

* * *

"_It stops _now_."_

_(Something fundamental inside Rusty thrilled to the words. Everything he wanted. Everything he wanted to hear. Everything he wanted Danny to say. He pushed away all the things he wanted.) _

The shockdelight of seeing Danny quickly melted as he'd sat and heard the ferocity and the fury, as he'd realised that Rick was taking the Fifth on this one, as he'd listened to the accusation rippling across the table at him.

Rusty could feel the cold wrath building within him, winding tightly around his soul layering up with innate self-control and the certain knowledge that he needed no one.

What gave Danny the right to judge? To tell him what he should do? So he'd gone back to Larner's. Back to Alex. He'd done a good reconnaissance job, hadn't he? They were so much further along than they would have been if he'd waited. That was the whole point.

And Danny was complaining that he hadn't been in touch. Well, that worked two ways. He didn't remember Danny picking up the phone either. There was no wire in Danny's mouth and his hands looked like they were working.

"_It stops _now_."_

Everything he'd wanted Danny to say. And no way Rusty was going to agree.

"Have you finished?" he asked, his voice deceptively soft.

Danny blinked at him and his jaw set. "I doubt I've even started."

"Well, I'm going to speak anyway. Do your best to listen. I've spent the past few weeks getting under the surface of Larner's. The result is that I know how they operate. Not just the money-laundering and the auctions. I mean how the drugs and the rest are smuggled in. I mean how it works at the very top between Constantine and Alex and the others. I mean how Mr Fitzwilliam plays them. There's more than enough there to bring the lot of them down."

Danny's eyes glinted darkly. "What do you want - a medal?"

Rusty's chin lifted fractionally. "What I want is for you to understand that I've built up a good picture of the operation. Like I said, no one's dead. Well, Mason is," he admitted. "And Wes is as near as damn it but _neither_ of those were down to me. Power struggle at the top. The point is," he went on, "I waited for you. And I chose to use that time wisely."

"Wisely?" Danny nearly choked on the word. "Rusty, what you're doing-"

Oh, no. Not the pity or the horror or the disgust. He couldn't allow any of that.

Rusty's mouth twisted. "You hold on to those fine morals, Danny. The rest of us will just get on with living in the real world where sex is all about the transaction."

Danny's face closed down at that. Rusty pressed on.

"Why don't you ask your partner what he thinks about it?"

Rick started as he was drawn into the conversation and fixed by two unblinking stares. He sat up in his chair and licked his lips then gave a half-shrug.

"It's not like he's hurting, is it?" he said to Danny. "Alex treats him alright, doesn't he? And after all, he's used to it. This is what he does, Danny."

Danny squeezed his eyes shut momentarily and then turned back to Rusty.

"Is any of that close to being true?" he whispered. "Is Rick _right_ about you?"

The words bit deep and Rusty was silent for a moment, burying the reaction. Then he replied, his voice steady.

"I'm not hurting. Alex treats me alright. I'm used to it. This is what I do."

"See?" Rick was full of the smug.

Danny frowned as if he was trying to see the lie that wasn't there. Rusty let him search and then Danny slumped back in the chair.

"I know where and when the drops are going to be," Rusty continued. "I know how the exchanges are made. Between us, we can tear down the whole set-up. Just like you planned an age ago."

Back when Ed was alive. Back when the world was brighter. Ed. This was all that mattered.

Danny shook his head.

"This isn't what I planned," he insisted hoarsely.

"Sure it is," Rusty shot back, his voice matter-of-fact. "You just didn't have the details to make it happen. And now I can give those to you. With that kind of information, we can really start to hurt them."

Danny looked like he still wanted to argue and suddenly all Rusty wanted was for Danny to leave and take his misplaced sentiment with him.

"Meet me back here at two o'clock. I'll bring you all the drops for the next few weeks."

Rusty resisted the urge to glance at Rick. Rick already had most of those specifics. Wasn't like Rick was going to admit that.

"You'll bring-"

"Don't have it on me," Rusty interrupted. "It's back where I'm staying."

Danny looked at him hard and Rusty returned the stare steadily, even though he could feel the tension rippling up through him. He kept his face impassive and his eyes cold: emotion didn't come into it.

"Come on, Danny," Rick murmured. "Let's hear the guy out at least."

Danny's gaze dropped down to the table.

"Alright," Danny agreed and his voice was emptier somehow. He stood up and Rusty saw the walking stick appear in his hand. "Two o'clock. But this isn't over."

Danny squeezed in between the tables and walked wordlessly away. Rusty exhaled slowly and rubbed his fingers around his mouth. That had been…

"Are those rope-marks?" Rick's voice broke into his thoughts.

Rusty lowered his arm and pulled his sleeve down.

"Don't tell Danny," he said jerkily and he didn't know whether Rick would or not but he didn't want Danny knowing. More questions, more accusations and he wasn't ready for round two just yet.

Rick made a derisory noise. "Fucking faggot." He shook his head and left.

Rusty stared down at two cold cups of black coffee.

* * *

Danny hadn't made it far when Rick caught up with him.

"Come on, Danny." Rick hailed a cab. "You look like you're going to pass out."

Danny got into the taxi without argument and Rick scurried round to the other side of the car and clambered in. Danny looked like he was running on fumes. Well, Rick hadn't slept well either. Hearing Rusty's alias casually announced like that last night… Rick had realised at once that Danny would get it and he'd watched as Danny's face had drained of colour.

And in the instant that Danny found out, he knew that he couldn't tell Danny he knew. Danny disapproved and right now, all of that was focused on Wonder Boy. Rick didn't to complicate matters.

Rick had lain in bed and gone over it all in his head. There was nothing to tie him in. Except maybe Rusty opening his mouth. Well, if that happened, he'd bluff it out. Danny had known him longer. Danny trusted him more. In any case, it wasn't like _he'd _decided to go and play happy families with the Taylor brothers.

Sitting in the diner, he'd grown more and more certain that Rusty wasn't going to share the fact that he, Rick, had been in on this. And that was good. Rick glanced at Danny, still shell-shocked. Very good indeed. Seemed like Danny's eyes were well and truly being opened and Rick didn't want to get in the way of Golden Boy freefalling down to earth.

* * *

Rusty walked the streets, blindly. Seeing Danny again. The incandescent anger had been one thing but the look in Danny's eyes when he'd realised what Rusty's undercover role was fully about… _No_ one looked at him like that. No one but Danny. It felt like a barbed knife digging deep under his skin, making him feel…making him _feel. _And now that Danny was gone, now that he was on his own, there was an ache where that knife had been. It shouldn't hurt like this. All the people he'd slept with, all the times he'd allowed himself to be used…it shouldn't be so raw.

His mouth twisted. Somewhere deep inside, he'd been imagining Danny riding up on a white charger to rescue him. To…to do what exactly? To gather him up in his arms and carry him away from it all? Pathetic. He gave a sudden bitter bark of a laugh and a mother passing by glared at him and pulled her child to her. Danny was Tommy Reiss too late to stop this.

"_Cheap and easy…"_

That was what Danny thought of him. Exactly the same as Rick did. _(Exactly the same as he thought of himself)._

Well, let him. He didn't need Danny's good opinion for this to work. He just needed Danny to be good at what he was good at. Yes, there'd been a part of him so close to throwing his cards on the table and asking Danny to sort out the mess. So close. But there was no way he was going to do that, not now, not ever. Pride was always going to triumph over self-pity. In any case, this was about the bigger picture.

Abruptly, he found himself standing outside Larner's and felt the familiar sensation of dread. Who knew bricks and mortar could be so intimidating?

Davey, who was manning the elevator, let out a startled yelp when Rusty stepped out on to the level with the living quarters. Rusty pushed past him, intent on heading towards the suite to get himself cleaned up. Next time he saw Danny, he wanted to be looking his best.

He hadn't got more than a few steps when Constantine walked out of his own room, saw him and did a double-take. Rusty saw relief and anger flash on to his face and off again.

"James. My suite. Now." Constantine held the door open.

"I wanted to-"

"_Now."_

Constantine's imperious tone wasn't taking no for an answer and reluctantly, Rusty did as he was told.

"Sit down," Constantine instructed.

Warily, Rusty sat, acutely aware of the dishevelled and unshaven look he was sporting. Constantine ran a cursory gaze over him, his nose wrinkling as he did so. Rusty bit his lip hard and resisted the urge to run a mile.

Constantine lit one of the thin cigars he favoured and started pacing up and down in front of him.

"My little brother is currently going out of his mind with worry," Constantine said eventually, the coldness bleeding through his voice. "Walking out like that after-"

"I didn't mean to-" Rusty began.

"Did I say you could speak?"

Rusty blinked.

"Did I?"

Rusty held his gaze and the comeback burned on his lips. Then James slowly shook his head.

"Damn right." Constantine took a long drag on the cigar and then leaned in and blew smoke into James's face. Rusty didn't give him the satisfaction of reaction and Constantine's eyes narrowed.

"Where the hell were you?"

"I just wanted some time to myself," James replied.

The question was shot back at him, quick-fire. "Were you with another man?"

"What?" Rusty's heart skipped a beat. Had he been followed? Had he led them to Danny?

"Last night," Constantine rapped out. "Were you cheating on my brother? Were you screwing another man?"

"No!" The word ripped out of him.

Constantine's gaze was piercing and Rusty returned it with full force. Eventually, Constantine seemed satisfied and straightened up.

"Have you any idea what Alex has been going through?" he asked and his tone was still chilly. "After the incident with Trey…"

Scaring Alex hadn't been his intention.

"I'm sorry," Rusty said truthfully.

Constantine obviously sensed his sincerity. His manner became less stiff and he sat down opposite Rusty, rolling the cigar between his fingers.

"It's been a stressful few days, James. While you and Alex were away, we had an…unexpected supply chain issue."

The words were full of anger and Rusty wondered…

"Then you come back and get yourself abducted, get released and immediately go missing." Constantine shook his head and took another drag on the cigar, releasing the smoke into a graceful plume.

"I didn't mean to worry anyone," James apologised. "I-"

"-wanted some time to yourself." Constantine nodded. "And do you feel you've had enough of that?"

There could only be one answer.

"Yes. I just needed to get my head straight."

Constantine nodded again. "Good. Because things are getting serious, James. I told Mr Fitzwilliam about Trey kidnapping you. He was not impressed. He likes you, James."

Rusty suppressed the shudder. He wasn't sure that being liked by Mr Fitzwilliam was necessarily something to be happy about. Some of the doubt must have shown on his face because Constantine smiled.

"Trust me, it's a good thing." The smile faded away. "Not such a good thing for Trey, however. Mr Fitzwilliam was very clear on that point."

His dark eyes fixed on Rusty's and Rusty could read the absolute satisfaction in there. Constantine did not like being challenged: retaliation was sweet.

Constantine sat forward in his chair.

"Things are getting serious, James. I need you to be strong. I need men around me that I can trust. I can rely on you, James, can't I?"

Another promise demanded. Well, he was good at giving people the answer they wanted.

"Yes, sir," James said, respect bleeding through his voice.

Constantine studied him for a moment and then gave a curt nod.

"Good." He stood up.

It was a dismissal. Rusty got to his feet.

"I'll go and find Alex and send him to you," Constantine said. He ran his eyes again over Rusty. "Make sure you're presentable."

* * *

Rusty stripped off and stood under the shower, soaping away the visible dirt, watching it disappear down the plughole and wishing... His knuckles were white as he gripped the soap. Wishing didn't do a thing.

Towel round his waist, he'd just finished shaving and was rinsing his face when the bathroom door opened and there stood Alex. Funny, but he'd thought Alex might have arrived sooner. He guessed that Constantine hadn't rushed with the news that he was back. It had bought him some time to clean up.

Alex was staring at him like he hadn't seen him in years, the look on his face full of an ache and a hunger and a desperation that was almost tangible.

"I thought…" he began. "I thought you…"

"Hey," Rusty said soothingly. "Hey-"

He got no further. Alex practically leapt across the divide and wrapped his arms around Rusty, his lips urgently seeking Rusty's mouth. The kiss reminded him of… Rusty couldn't stop the small moan escaping. Alex broke away, panting and there was an unsteady look of downright lust in his eyes.

There was a half a half second – _He was strong-ice-untouchable _- and then James smiled. "I missed you too."

* * *

Later, and they were lying on the bed, limbs entwined, Alex's fingers idly brushing through James's hair. The relief when he'd stood in the bathroom doorway and seen James standing there had been overwhelming. He'd spent last night convinced that James had run away to this man Carter's arms.

"You don't want to hear what I said to Constantine after you'd gone. I thought he'd driven you away for good. I thought I wasn't going to see you again."

Alex's fingers moved to trace over his face like he was committing it to memory.

"I'm sorry," James said quietly. "I didn't intend to worry you. Think it was a bit of delayed reaction to everything that happened with Trey."

Alex winced. "Understandable."

"Am I forgiven?"

"Nothing to forgive."

James caught hold of Alex's fingers and kissed them. "I'll make it up to you."

"You came back," Alex said softly. "That's all you needed to do."

James leaned up on one elbow, putting a little distance between them. "So what did I miss? Constantine implied things have been lively. Something about the supply chain?"

Alex sat up and leaned back against the headboard with a sigh. "Yeah. While we were away in Niagara, a huge weapons shipment was confiscated by the Feds."

James's eyebrows raised. "Really? Did they trace it to Larner's?"

Alex shook his head. "The paperwork's clean. Still. It shook things up a bit."

"I can imagine."

"Then some cops came round asking about Alisha." Alex drew his knees up to his chest and hugged them. "They found her body."

James was silent for a moment and then said, "Yeah. Jennie told me."

"Just awful," Alex murmured, thinking back to when he'd found out from Constantine that Alisha had been killed. Constantine had been so matter-of-fact about it. Like Alex should have realised. Like Alex should be tough enough to make these kind of decisions himself. And he was, wasn't he? He could do that, couldn't he? He tried so _hard_… And even when he thought he'd done something impressive, something that would put a spark of pride in Constantine's eyes, Constantine just acted like it was nothing. Maybe he'd never see that pride.

There was a gentle squeeze of his arm and he flashed James a grateful smile. He never had to prove himself to James.

"Doesn't stop there," Alex said heavily. "Wes died in hospital last night."

Tony had been silent and upset. Constantine had been vocal and furious.

James made a little neutral noise and Alex nodded absently.

"Yes, we'll all miss him. Can't believe we're not going to see him or Mason again. Trey's a damn fool kicking off like this." He couldn't stop the anger in his voice. He hated conflict. "Mr Fitzwilliam said as much to Constantine. He was really worried about what happened to you, you know. He likes you."

There was a flicker of something on James's face that Alex couldn't identify and then it was gone.

"Constantine said that too."

"Then it must be true," Alex grinned. The grin died away. "Constantine's keeping something from me. Something to do with Mr Fitzwilliam. He thinks I can't tell when he's hiding stuff from me." Alex snorted. "I've known him all my life."

"What do you think he's hiding?"

Alex frowned. "I don't know. I think maybe something happened when you went to see him."

He looked down at James questioningly but James shrugged.

"They didn't say anything in front of me. Why would he keep a secret from you?"

Why not? Constantine liked the power kick. Alex considered the question.

"I think he's still mad that I punched him," he said eventually adding quickly, "not that you aren't worth it. I'd do it again in an instant."

James smiled up at him. "I don't know if I deserve you."

Alex stroked James's face again. Exactly how he thought about James.

* * *

Rick had come through again. Danny found himself sitting in a suite of an upmarket mid-town hotel with a shot of whisky in his hand.

"You look like you need-" Rick said, breaking off as Danny drained it. Turned out he did.

Seeing Rusty again. Seeing Rusty who hadn't even tried to defend what he'd done. What he was doing. Seeing Rusty who hadn't even mentioned Teresa's funeral or why he'd missed it. Why he'd _chosen _to miss it. Danny was going to have to invent new words for anger.

Rick pushed a plate of club sandwiches in his direction. "You need some food too."

Mechanically, Danny chewed the bread and meat and saw Rick nod to himself before sitting down opposite and biting into his own sandwich.

"Fucking faggot, right?" It didn't sound like it was a question. "Told you, Danny. His sort, they don't care what they do or _who_ they do. He doesn't _care_, Danny."

…"_Is Rick _right_ about you?"… _

Rusty hadn't denied it.

"Did you smell the booze on him?" Rick asked.

Yes, he had. Waves of it.

"Looks like he was partying last night," Rick said contemptuously.

That wasn't it. That surely wasn't it. _(Had Rusty chosen a good time with Alex over paying his respects to Teresa?)_

"I tell you, Danny, he's a fucking whore. He'll climb into bed with anyone."

He should have said something. Done something. He should have made Rusty see how a hundred and fifty shades of fucked up this was except…

"_This is what I do."_

Rusty_ didn't _see anything wrong with it. And yet…Danny thought about the beach (and God, that seemed like a lifetime ago), he thought about the truths shared and the truths revealed. Just because Rusty didn't see anything wrong didn't mean Rusty enjoyed it, whatever Rick might say.

A thought struck him. Maybe, without Rick there, he could get through to Rusty. Maybe he could make Rusty see sense.

"Maybe I should see him on my own."

He raised his gaze and found Rick staring at him like he'd punched him. Shit. He tried to explain.

"Maybe I can make Rusty listen. You two…well. You've never exactly been the best of friends, have you?"

Rick's face was pale.

"Don't cut me out, Danny." Rick's voice was hoarse with emotion and it might be as close to begging as he'd ever heard Rick – Rick who was always so confident and strong. Danny remembered how hurt Rick had been when Danny had insisted Rusty run the auction and he sighed.

"Oh, Rick. _Never_."

Rick's shoulders sagged with obvious relief. "We need to stick together, Danny. Now. Always."

Yes. Yes.

Danny ran his fingers over suddenly tired eyes and down through his beard.

Yes.

"You look beat," Rick said softly.

Danny's mouth tightened. Not by a long way.

* * *

"You're going to work?" Alex couldn't keep the astonishment out of his voice.

Rusty smiled at Alex standing behind him and straightened James's tie in the mirror.

"Back to normal," he said lightly. "I guess we could all do with a little of that, right?"

Whatever normal was.

Alex reached out and caught James's right wrist, running his fingers lightly over the rope marks.

"Whatever normal is," he sighed and Rusty could only hope that he didn't hear his sharp inhalation of breath.

"And tonight, why don't we go out somewhere?" James suggested. "My treat."

Alex pulled him round to face him. "That would be nice."

James leaned forward and brushed his lips against Alex's cheek. "I still want to make things up to you."

Alex's smile was wide.

* * *

Danny sat on the bench outside Larner's and stared at the auction house. Rick dropped down by his side.

"We don't want to be hanging round here, Danny." Rick was saying and Danny could hear the nervous in his voice. "We ought to keep clear…"

Rick was still talking but his voice tailed away, a faint noise in the swirl of emotion running through Danny. Rage had receded to the level where he was at least able to function but the feelings of betrayal and hurt were as live as ever.

He remembered all the long weeks of dark fantasies of revenge: of explosives delicately set, of bullets fired with a sniper's precision, of just damn well wiping Larner's from the face of the earth. And then the wild fantasies had gradually crystallised into an actual plan to destroy the individuals involved one by one, to look them in the eyes and tell them precisely why they were about to die. Eventually.

He'd always figured he'd leave Lloyd to Rusty. He knew he wanted Nelson to himself.

To make that happen though, he needed Rick and Rusty. He couldn't exact punishment alone. And while Rick's loyalty went without saying, Rusty had just… Danny squeezed his eyes shut. The anger threatened to overwhelm him again. Rusty had made and broken two promises that showed Danny exactly what Rusty's word was worth-

"Danny!" Rick was shaking his arm. "Snap out of it!"

He blinked and shot Rick an apologetic look. None of this was Rick's fault.

"I shouldn't have walked away," Danny said heavily.

"What?" Rick wasn't following this conversation.

"We should have gone back to his place with him," Danny elaborated. "Why the hell did we let him out of our sight?"

"Well, we _couldn't. _Go back with him, I mean," Rick said, looking up at Larner's. "Not like Alex is going to welcome _us_ with open arms."

It was Danny's turn to look uncomprehending. "What?"

Rick started and turned back to him, mouth slackly open. "I mean…I mean isn't it obvious? Golden Boy's living with him."

* * *

Rusty carried out James's duties efficiently, smiling gently every now and then at Alex as he caught James's eye. Constantine was prowling round the dealer floor too. He waited till James had finished with a customer and then leaned across the desk.

"You made it up with Alex?"

James nodded.

"Good," Constantine grunted.

Rusty watched him stride away and then checked his watch. Nearly time to leave. He drew a piece of blank paper towards him and wrote down in neat script the details that Danny needed to know. He folded it neatly in two and slipped it inside his jacket pocket and stood up.

"Going out to grab some lunch," he murmured to Jennie at the next desk who waved a hand of acknowledgement.

Rusty headed out of Larner's and back towards the diner. This morning, he'd been caught unawares. This morning, he'd been weak and he'd shown it. Now he was focused and determined and most importantly, ready to face Danny again.

* * *

Two o'clock couldn't come quickly enough. As Rick went to the diner counter to buy drinks, Danny walked over to the table at the back, doing his best not to put too much weight on the stick. Rusty was waiting for them, sipping a cup of coffee, the remains of a sandwich on a plate in front of him. Danny frowned involuntarily. There was a difference in Rusty from this morning.

Oh, not just the fact that he'd bothered to shave and that as Danny sat down opposite, he no longer caught the whiff of alcohol. This was still a Rusty without the shine but he seemed to have a harder edge. Danny's jaw set. Well, he could match that.

"Rick has this crazy idea," Danny began, going on the offensive, "that you are actually living with Alex at Larner's."

Rusty didn't even blink. "That's right."

Said like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"You're…" Danny stared at him and Rusty held his gaze.

"He's what?" Rick asked, putting the coffees down on the table.

Not the man Danny'd thought he was.

"You were right," Danny said, keeping the emotion out of his voice. "He's moved in with Alex."

A handful of weeks and Rusty was… He stared at Rusty looking for a sign that Rusty saw the horror in it all. There was nothing.

"Of course he has," Rick nodded as he sat down, adding pleasantly, "time for a quick fuck before you headed back to join us?

Rusty didn't answer but Rusty didn't have to. Danny could see the truth there in his eyes and it was all suddenly undeniable; all suddenly real. He felt his stomach turn.

"Christ," he muttered, looking away.

When he looked back at Rusty, Rusty's expression was closed and controlled. Sex was all about the transaction. Right. Danny thought savagely that Rusty would have understood Teresa's step-father perfectly.

"I don't have much time." Rusty produced a folded piece of paper sliding it across the table to Danny who automatically picked it up to study. "Here are the movements for the next few weeks for the diamond shipments. The drugs as well. There's a very short overlap time with the couriers – the details are all there. They swap the money and the goods in yellow rucksacks." Rusty's eyes slid across to Rick. "I'm sure Rick can source some."

Danny bridled at the dig at Rick's competence. "I'm sure he can," he snapped. He stared back down at the list. "What about the guns?"

"I've got an angle going on that. Tip offs to the FBI."

Danny raised his head, getting it immediately. "Bobby's weapons haul?"

Rusty nodded. "The paperwork doesn't implicate Larner's but a missing shipment still screws things up badly for them."

He straightened up. "Now, you've got the information. Let's take the fight to them, Danny."

Treacherous ideas rose up in Danny's head: ideas that showed how they could cause chaos; how they could hit and hurt so much more than a handful of men…

It wasn't enough to keep Rusty in Alex's bed.

"It isn't enough," he said firmly.

Rusty gave a slow nod of agreement. "It isn't."

* * *

It wasn't. They couldn't be sure they would kill off the Hydra completely. They needed to destroy operations right at the top. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised that Danny saw it too.

"I overheard a conversation I shouldn't have," he told Danny. "I haven't got the date yet but next month, Larner's is playing host to a hot potato by the name of Luiz Marquez. Someone who can't be explained away to a customs official."

"Arms dealer?" Rick asked.

"Drugs baron," Rusty corrected. He looked Danny straight in the eye. "Only Constantine knows he's coming. Not even Alex has been told. We wait..what…four weeks? Five? And we can make sure they're crushed."

Danny didn't say a word. Rusty sighed inside.

"Alright. Let's level. I can't do this without you, Danny. I can't work both ends. Now this might not be as…clean a job as you're used to but this is the chance to absolutely tear apart the world of the bastards who tore apart our world. Tell me you don't want that. Tell me you don't want to strip every mortal thing away from them."

Danny was silent.

"Then for fuck's sake, pack away your bleeding heart for four weeks. Help me take them down."

Danny closed his eyes for a long, long moment and when he opened them again, they were cold, dark steel.

"Alright."

Rusty sat back in his chair, exhaustion swamping him. He couldn't let go. Not in front of Danny. He needed to hold on for a little longer.

"Alright," Danny said again and his voice was suddenly business-like and authoritative. He held up the piece of paper. "I'll take this away. We'll do some leg-work to find out anything this doesn't tell us. I guess we'll be ready to start in a couple of days."

"Let's meet back here-"

"Friday."

"I can't promise-"

"No," Danny said coolly. "You can't."

Rusty could feel the colour rising in his face. He spoke quickly to hide it.

"I can't say for sure I'll be here. I don't always get a say in what happens in my free time."

There was a loud snort from Rick. Rusty ignored him.

"If I can make it, I'll be here." Rusty offered crystal-blue assurance.

Danny's expression was neutral. "And if you need to speak to me in the meantime, you know my number, right?"

There was an edge in Danny's voice that he didn't understand. Like Danny was waiting for Rusty to say something.

"Yes," Rusty agreed. Yes, he did. And he knew that calling Danny was absolutely his last resort.

Danny still looked like he was waiting. Rusty stared him out. He wasn't a mind-reader.

"OK," Danny said eventually, standing up. "We'll check in with you Friday. We're staying at…"

He looked at Rick who supplied the name of the hotel. Rusty saw the look of silent thanks that Danny sent Rick: warm and heartfelt and the sudden hunger cut straight through Rusty. He forced all sign of emotion off his face.

"Well, enjoy the mini-bar," he said with a degree of lightness he didn't feel.

"You'd know all about that," Rick suggested, "way you showed up this morning. No prizes for what you got up to last night."

It stung in a way that it shouldn't and it snapped the quick rejoinder out of him.

"I suppose you two must have been at a church service."

Suddenly, Danny's eyes were skewering him to the chair. Rusty frowned and started to open his mouth to ask what was wrong but Danny cut him off.

"Friday lunchtime."

He turned on his heel and limped away. Still frowning, Rusty watched him go.

"Congratulations," Rick said, standing up. "Yesterday, he was burying his wife."

Rusty's head snapped round, shock all over his face. Teresa's funeral? He'd missed Teresa's funeral?

Rick smirked down at him. "What's the matter, hotshot? Didn't you get the invite?"

Rick hurried after Danny and Rusty stared after them both, wanting to call them back, unable to form words, unable to make a sound.

Neither of them looked back round.

* * *

A/N: thank you to everyone still reading this fic. :) Would be really reassured to hear what you think of this chapter.


	63. Popularity

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: nope, still don't own.

A/N: many thanks to otherhawk for her very helpful music suggestions. :)

Chapter Sixty-three: Popularity

* * *

"_Carter, don't sweat it. Danny wants some time to himself. We'll be in touch."_

Carter pursed his lips. It didn't matter how many times he read and reread the note, the message didn't change. Danny and Rick had taken off just like Rusty had before them and just like Rusty, they were offering up the same damn story.

"Shit," he said out loud and with feeling.

He dug out his phone and punched in Scott's number. It rang twice before he heard Scott's careful "Hello?"

"You OK to talk?"

There was a pause and then, "Malcolm, can you give me a minute?"

Another pause and Carter could picture Malcolm calmly and effortlessly clearing the room to give Scott privacy.

"I'm back with you."

"Danny's gone," Carter said tersely and heard Scott swear softly. "I swung by this afternoon to see how he was doing after last night. Last night, he blew us out – well, Rick did. Said Danny was wrung out which…"

"Yeah. I can believe it too."

"Today, the house is empty and there's a three line message telling me not to worry and no trace of them."

"You think they've hooked up with Rusty?"

Carter smiled in spite of himself. Scott's mind made the same leaps his did.

"Got to think it's a possibility. After all, that was the point of Rusty's speech way back when, wasn't it? The three of them going after the bad guys."

Scott swore again more loudly this time. "Danny isn't close to being ready to handle himself."

Carter thought back to Fat Joe's and the boy lying in the bed who'd just had bullets pulled out of him. "Wouldn't stop Rusty."

"No, wouldn't stop Danny either," Scott sighed. He was silent for a moment. "So what's next?"

Carter exhaled thoughtfully. "We could let it play. I'd place my money on Rusty every time."

"Mmm, Danny inspires that kind of confidence too. Still…"

"Yeah." Carter didn't like that option either. Better to know what was going on. They wouldn't interfere but if they knew what was happening then at least they could help if they were needed. "So I thought I'd help Bobby do the digging. I can get places he can't and I can work on this full time. We can find them faster."

"Sounds like a plan. Let me know if I can help."

"I'll keep you posted."

* * *

"You alright?"

Rusty blinked and turned his head. Jennie was looking at him with concern. Sounded like it might not have been the first time she'd asked him the question. With difficulty he managed to get James to smile at her.

"I'm fine," he said with as much conviction as he could. "Just thinking."

That much was true. He'd done nothing _but_ think since he'd made his way back to work from the diner.

Jennie gave him a worried nod and looked as if she'd like to say something else but had to turn her attention instead to the lady stood in front of her clutching a figurine. Rusty stared without seeing at his screen, grateful that no customer was troubling him: his thoughts were troubling enough. He couldn't stop replaying the encounter with Danny.

Danny. In his mind's eye, Rusty could see Danny's face, drawn and pale in contrast to the dark beard that smothered his jaw. There had been a weariness about the way he'd walked, an awkwardness about the way he relied on the stick, a brittleness to Danny that Rusty could never have imagined.

He hadn't seen any of that at the time.

All he'd seen was the look in Danny's eyes, the blazing fury followed by the revulsion and then all that fierceness closing down into the hard and the pragmatic. Well, Rusty knew all about that. Leave emotion at the door. Why did he think Danny owed him an invitation to Teresa's funeral? He barely knew Danny. They were just two men connected by one job that had gone badly wrong. And now, the only reason they were _still_ connected was revenge. If Danny wanted to bury his wife, that was Danny's business. He didn't have to advertise the fact to Rusty. It certainly shouldn't hurt the way it did. Ridiculous. Rusty wiped a hand over his mouth. Ridiculous. He couldn't expect anything from-

"Penny for them?"

He looked up. Not Jennie this time but a smiling Alex. The smile started to falter - God, he must look awful – and James spoke up quickly.

"Just planning tonight," he said softly. "If you still feel like going out?"

Alex grinned. "I want to spend some downtime with you. Niagara feels like a lifetime ago."

Yeah, a lot of things seemed a lifetime ago.

"Let's start with drinks next door, shall we?"

* * *

Danny dozed fitfully. They'd got back to the hotel and his head had been pounding. Rick had insisted he rest up and even though resting was the last thing he wanted to do, he had to admit that Rick had a point. Clarity of thought was beyond him.

Peaceful sleep eluded him too. Dreams tumbled through him - images of Teresa, full of joy and laughing and then lying lifeless in the mortuary like one of the porcelain dolls she adored…images of Eduardo, covered in paint and fast asleep at Maria's and then struggling and suffering, protecting Rusty and in a roundabout way, Rick as well…

Then came the dream that was the real doozy. Back gambling with Teresa's stepfather and every card Danny laid down was a loser. No matter what he did, no matter what he tried, luck evaded him and cold, hard fate was in charge.

As the Full House trumped his three Queens, Danny sat back in his chair, despair alive in him. The man opposite grinned and held out his hand. Danny stared, uncomprehending. Before he could ask or do anything, a wad of money was pressed into it and startled, Danny looked up. One of the guys from the bar pushed past him with intent on his face.

He couldn't move. His limbs felt like they were welded in position. Desperately, Danny looked at the chair in the shadows where Teresa was sitting, head bowed, but it was Rusty who raised his eyes. Rusty, whose face was full of resignation, of _this is how life is_ and who had no one to tell him differently. Tongue-tied, Danny watched as Rusty was led through to the back room. This wasn't right. This wasn't _right._

Danny woke up with a gasp.

This wasn't right.

* * *

It was evening. Rick opened the door to room service and didn't bother with the tip. Not what was important. Danny was important and when he woke up, he'd need food: Rick had gone wild with the sandwiches.

He'd sat down in front of the tv with a bowl of curly fries and tried to work out where things stood. This head honcho that was arriving at Larner's…that seemed to be enough to keep Golden Boy in place and _that_ seemed to be enough to keep the wedge between Golden Boy and Danny. Good. Exactly how Rick liked it. He munched a mouthful of fries. This could work. If Rusty wasn't going to give him up, then Danny need never know he'd been involved. And the plan itself, the swapping out the jewels and the taking the money…well…he knew what went on there. All he needed to do was to keep his head down and follow Danny's lead and-

There was a noise coming from Danny's room and Rick got to his feet, spilling the fries. He pushed the door open and stared down at Danny's bed. Danny's fingers were curled into his pillow and there was strain all over Danny's face and the _whimper_ coming out of Danny's mouth…

"Hey. Hey, Danny."

Rick reached out to shake Danny's shoulder and then pulled his hand back. Whisky. He should wake Danny up with a glass of whisky close by. Danny looked like he was going to need it. He galloped to the minibar and grabbed a couple of miniatures and headed back to Danny's room, stopping short in the doorway.

Danny was awake, sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands.

"You OK? I've got whisky." The words seemed inane.

"No. Thanks." Danny shook his head. "I need to speak to Rusty."

To Golden Boy? Rick frowned. "What-"

Danny had already dug his phone out of his jacket pocket. Rick saw him close his eyes as the call clicked over to answerphone. "Rusty, it's Danny. Please. We need to talk. Please."

There was a raw note in Danny's voice as if Danny was close to tears.

"This isn't the way. Walk away from Larner's. Leave tonight. Get out and get somewhere safe and call me and let me know where you are. We'll find another way. Nothing is worth this. _Please."_

It sounded like it mattered more to Danny than anything else in the world and Rick gave a sudden shiver.

Danny hung up and sat there silently, clutching the phone in two hands, almost like he was praying. Rick licked his lips and congratulated himself yet again on switching the numbers round on Danny's phone. At least Rusty wouldn't be listening to this.

"Well, you left the message," he said, forcing a note of cheeriness into his voice. "That's all you can do, right? It's up to- where are you going?"

Danny was on his feet and putting on his jacket. "I need to see him. I need him to look in my eyes and believe me, Rick."

Rick grabbed his arm. "You told him earlier, Danny. You saw him. He's not going to stop no matter how many times you tell him."

Danny shook him off and headed out of the bedroom. Rick followed him and tried again, words falling out of him.

"He doesn't _care, _Danny. You ask me, he gets off on this. Did you look at his wrists? He lets Alex tie him up, you know. How kinky is that?"

A spasm of pain flickered over Danny's face but he still moved with determination towards the door. Rick pressed on.

"You can leave as many messages as you like, Danny. You can tell him as many times as you like, he's never going to listen."

Danny picked up his stick and walked out into the corridor and Rick shouted after him, despairingly, "This is what he is, Danny. A whore, plain and simple."

* * *

They'd had drinks at the bar next door and they'd had a meal at a nearby restaurant and Rusty had ordered champagne and lots of it. Alex had got gigglier by the minute but the alcohol hadn't touched Rusty at all.

Now they were heading back home, walking through the streets, arms entwined and Alex was laughing hard: Rusty wasn't sure at what. They were just outside of Larner's, underneath the streetlight and Alex stumbled up against him, pushing him back against the wall.

"Steady," James murmured as Alex's arms clutched at him, his fingers digging into his arms.

"James, James, James," Alex hiccoughed gently into his ear. "Did I tell you how much I-"

"Steady," Rusty interrupted sharply, trying to shift Alex but the older man's weight was holding him in place.

Alex laughed again and his face was close to Rusty's, brown eyes full of happiness. "I'm so glad you came back."

Warm lips were pressed up against his neck, delicately, deliberately marking a pathway up to Rusty's ear. Rusty closed his eyes and let him, his fingernails digging into his palms. This was…this was… He swallowed hard and opened his eyes, suddenly feeling he was being watched.

There was a figure sitting on the bench opposite. The hair on the back of Rusty's neck prickled. He didn't know how but he knew without a shadow of a doubt it was Danny. Danny, come to see him in action, maybe? Danny, come to make sure that he was going through with all this? Danny, wanting to see what disgusted him so?

Defiance rippled through him. He offered up James's neck for more clumsy kisses, moulded James's body to Alex's…let's put on a show for the man.

Danny got up and took a few definite paces towards him, leaning on that damn stick and for an awful moment, Rusty thought he was going to interfere. He turned his head and kissed Alex hard on the lips with a passion born of a desire to keep Danny out of this. He could feel Alex respond in more than one way.

Eventually, they broke and Alex looked at him with drunken lust. "Let's get inside."

Rusty stared over Alex's shoulder.

"Let's," James agreed.

Danny had walked away.

* * *

The champagne did for Alex's libido. Rusty came back from the bathroom to find Alex sprawled face down and fast asleep on the bed. He pulled Alex's shoes off and pulled the covers over him and then slid into bed alongside him and stared at the ceiling.

Danny had come looking for him. Deep inside, he felt his heart leap with treacherous delight. Danny had come looking for him and that had to mean something, didn't it? At least…the joy faded. Maybe it was still all about the revenge. Maybe Danny had been studying Larner's and it was just happenstance that he saw Rusty. Maybe…

It didn't mean anything, he told himself. Not a damn thing.

* * *

Rick didn't know what to do. Danny was out there somewhere and he felt like he should have gone with him and tried to make him see sense. Danny had been on a mission. Rick gnawed at his thumbnail. It didn't seem likely that he'd get to see Rusty but Danny was good at making the impossible happen. Suppose he'd caught up with him and the little faggot had cried on his shoulder and somehow it had all come out in the wash that he, Rick, had known all about this. OK, so a few hours ago, he'd been convinced that Golden Boy wasn't going to do that but Danny could be persuasive. If he somehow managed to talk to Rusty alone and his voice had been full of the life and death that it had been when he left that damn answerphone message…

"Fuck," Rick said to no one in particular then started as the door opened and Danny walked in.

Questions burned on Rick's lips but Danny just gave him a weary smile and shook his head, shutting off all conversation.

"Get some sleep, Rick."

Rick couldn't stop himself asking, "Did you see him?"

Danny's face tightened. "Yes. Now get some sleep. Tomorrow, we start work."

* * *

The bright morning sun lit the room as Carter sat at the Caldwell's kitchen table, stirring the cup of coffee and smiled at Molly as she proffered a plate of cookies.

"Not the chocolate ones," she warned. "Bobby's favourite."

Carter half-glanced at Bobby before realising they were all chocolate and she was joking. God, he was more tired than he thought.

"Thanks, Molly," he said, taking a couple.

"You look beat," Bobby told him bluntly. "You slept any since I last saw you?"

"Not much," Carter said truthfully. It had been a hard week. Make that a hard few weeks.

Molly squeezed his arm. "Look after yourself, Carter, or you won't be fit to help anyone."

Yeah. That suggested that people wanted to be helped so that he could at least try.

The door to the kitchen was suddenly flung open and a teenage boy, blond hair worn in a gravity-defying style, slouched into the room.

"Mom, have you seen my T-shirt?"

"Linus, we have a visitor."

Linus looked at Carter and gave a shrug of_ whatever. _

"Linus," Bobby admonished.

Linus gave an exaggerated sigh. "Pleased to meet you," he mumbled and then turned back to Molly. "Have you seen my T-shirt?"

Molly sighed. "Which one?"

"The Goo Goo Dolls. I want to wear it out."

"No but your Beastie Boys one is in your drawer. You could wear that one."

"But then I'd be wearing the wrong one." Linus' tone suggested that his mother obviously needed this explaining. "Anyway, Beastie Boys are so last year."

Bobby opened his mouth, presumably to pull his son up but Molly shook her head.

"S'OK. I'll go and hunt it down. You two carry on. No, don't get up, Carter."

Bobby stared after them.

"I don't remember being so wilful when I was young."

Carter smiled. "I guess at the time we didn't think of it as wilful."

"I guess." Bobby's expression softened slightly and he turned back to the business in hand. "So no one's been in touch?"

"Radio silence. I haven't bothered with Rick and I've almost given up hope of Rusty calling me. I've left Danny messages and there's been nothing coming back. Scott thinks…_we_ think that it's possible they've met up."

Bobby nodded slowly. "They said they would. When Danny was healed. Have to say I wish they'd waited till he was more mobile. From what I saw at the funeral, Danny's only just getting used to walking again."

Yeah. Carter agreed completely. "So where are we at?"

"I've pushed the case into the shadows as much as I can. Officially, the theory's either some revenge killing connected to Danny's drugs charges or some gang cruising and looking for trouble and fun. The important thing is that no one is looking closely at Rusty or Danny or Rick."

Carter exhaled slowly. That was at least something. "You're still going to go after Anton?"

"Yes. Haven't got much to go on but I spent yesterday digging through records and I've got some characters that I want to show a guy called Simmonds back at Alisha's place."

"I'd like to come back with you. I'd like to help. I don't want to get in the way but-"

"No, that'd be great." Bobby broke into a smile. "I'd appreciate that."

"When are you heading back to NYC?" Carter asked and saw the faintest flicker of hesitation in Bobby's eyes. Carter opened his mouth to ask why and then his brain caught up and he continued smoothly, "Because I don't think we'll get much done over Thanksgiving. I was going to go and start sorting out Danny's house tomorrow. Shall we meet up on Friday at JFK?"

"Carter-" Bobby began and Carter just knew it was all going to be about Bobby setting aside family and holidays and working on this. And as much as Carter wanted to start looking for Anton right now, family was important.

"Friday, Bobby," he insisted. "We'll get there first thing."

* * *

The morning after Danny had gatecrashed their date, Rusty left Alex nursing a hangover and with a kiss from James to make it better. Nelson and Tony were in deep discussion near the boardroom and Tony broke off as he approached.

"James, can you help Nelson on the inventory side today? I'll square it with Dick and Jennie downstairs. "

James. Not Mr Gallagher. Today, he was one of Tony's boys.

"Sure," Rusty agreed.

"We've got a rush job," Nelson said, his voice soft. "Need to get stuck in."

Rusty looked at the heavy-lidded, dark eyes and repressed the shiver and gave him James's easy-going smile.

He rode the elevator with Nelson in silence. He'd had little contact with Nelson over the past few weeks and when he _had_ seen him, Nelson hadn't had much to say for himself. This was the first time he'd been up close and personal and standing in the confined space, Rusty could feel the man's presence. He wasn't bulky like Tony or broad like Lloyd or even average but tough like Brady but he looked like he could handle himself and there was definitely an edge there. Something dangerous just waiting to be let out.

He was so caught up in thinking about Nelson that it wasn't until they stepped off the elevator that he got his bearings and realised he was in the blacked out area in the loading bay where the less than legal shipments were handled. His first time in this particular holy of holies.

Lloyd and Brady were already there, surrounded by crates they'd obviously just unloaded and brought in.

"Trust you to turn up when all the hard work's done," Lloyd grumbled and got an elbow in the ribs from Brady.

"You come to help?" Brady said brightly and Nelson nodded.

"Tony said you needed a hand."

"Where is Tony?" Brady asked, staring at Rusty.

Nelson shrugged. "He's got something to do. He sent James with me."

"Well, that's alright, isn't it?" Lloyd clapped Rusty on the shoulder. "Better than having Davey with us. James is worth two of him."

Rusty could feel the bile rising in his throat. He focused on the crates instead.

"What…?" Rusty began and then broke off. James probably wasn't meant to question anything.

"Came in this morning." Lloyd answered him anyway. "Diverted from Trey's operations. Not like he can move it on now."

Brady chuckled and tossed a crowbar in Nelson's direction. Nelson caught it one-handed, effortlessly. Rusty watched as he opened one of the boxes. Inside was straw and…

"Guns," he heard himself saying.

Lloyd looked amused. "Yes, guns. What did you think? Daffodils?"

"You want to unpack or catalogue?"

Rusty stared stupidly at Nelson.

"Catalogue," he said, finally finding his voice and Nelson shoved a clipboard at him.

"Ready?" Lloyd grinned.

It was a production line. Nelson opened and unpacked the crates, Lloyd called out the merchandise, Rusty wrote them all down, then Brady repacked the weapons. It took them till lunchtime to finish going through the crates. Rusty looked down at the sheets of his neat handwriting listing the separate units.

"That needs to go up to the boss's office," Lloyd told him. "You take it up and let him know we need to shift these into storage."

Storage. The heavily protected cells of security that were on a floor of their own. He hadn't been there either.

"I could help you guys," James suggested with a friendly smile. "We can move it quicker together, can't we? I can take the paperwork up afterwards."

The other three exchanged amused glances and Rusty frowned inside. What was the joke?

"Be our guest," Brady offered with a smirk, gesturing towards the elevator.

"Aw, go easy on him," Lloyd chided turning to Rusty and explaining, "Only the Mr Taylors and Tony have got the elevator privileges to get to that floor. Only the Mr Taylors and Tony can access the storage. You go see Mr Taylor."

"Then I say we go for lunch next door," Brady said firmly. "Feel we've earned a beer and a burger."

"Too right," Lloyd agreed fervently. "You joining us?"

"Alright," Nelson said laconically.

All three of them looked at Rusty.

There was only one answer. "Sure."

* * *

Rusty knocked on Constantine's office door and there was a moment and then a barked "Come in!"

"I've brought up the inventory sheets from-" Rusty tailed off and stared.

Constantine was behind his desk, leaning over his phone and Tony was leaning up against the wall, arms folded and unreadable but what drew Rusty's attention were the two men standing in the middle of the room. Lee and Mikey, Trey's men. The last time he'd seen them… The rope marks suddenly burned fiercely around his wrists.

"Is that James I can hear?"

Mr Fitzwilliam's voice floated across the room and made Rusty start. Rusty glanced at Constantine who made a "go-ahead" gesture towards the phone. Rusty moved forward, a wary eye on Lee and Mikey.

"Yes, Mr Fitzwilliam."

"James. I can only apologise for the misguided actions of my former employee. I have had to explain personally to Trey how unhappy I was about what he did. I want you to know how very pleased I am that you are back with us safely. I would have been sorry if something…unfortunate…had happened to you."

Rusty's eyes met Constantine's. There was dark amusement and satisfaction and that was all about how much Mr Fitzwilliam prized James. Not for James's sake but because in Constantine's head, James was one of his. Constantine was all about the possession. Rusty's eyes narrowed slightly.

"I'm fine, sir."

"Good to hear it, James." Mr Fitzwilliam became more business-like. "I've just been explaining to Constantine that I'm putting Mikey and Lee with him for the time being whilst I decide what happens to Trey's operations."

Rusty's gaze shifted to the two men. Mikey had a subdued air and was busy studying the weave of the carpet. Lee was staring straight ahead, looking at some fascinating spot behind Constantine's head. They were like bonded men, handed over from one owner to another.

"We'll look after them, Mr Fitzwilliam," Constantine assured him.

"I know you will, Constantine. Lyle and I will catch up you next week." There was a pause and then, "I hear that you had a shipment that didn't get through."

Constantine's face clouded over. "That's right."

"Mmm. Unlucky." There was another silence and Rusty could _feel_ the tension oozing from Constantine. Not surprising, really. Trey had just ended up as plant food. "Well, it happens from time to time. Let's hope it doesn't happen too often. Goodbye, Constantine."

"Goodbye, sir."

The line went dead and Constantine sat back in his chair, his expression confident once again.

"You heard the gentleman. You two are working for me for the foreseeable future. In some ways, you're fortunate. Up until your old boss was stupid enough to grab James here, I had instructions that he was to be kept alive but his men were fair game. Of course, some of your colleagues still had to be punished. Lucky for you that I pointed out the benefits of keeping a couple of guys around who know the background to how things run. Otherwise..."

Constantine left the unfinished thought hanging and then went on, "Now, I think it would be nice to clear the air a little." His voice suddenly spiked through with anger. "I've lost two good men because of Trey and James here was seriously inconvenienced." The anger died back again. "But I'm willing to accept that you were doing what you were told and I can appreciate men who do that. I also appreciate men that are smart enough to recognise a second chance and embrace it."

Constantine's eyes were sharp and Mikey and Lee couldn't fail to hear the edge in his voice.

"We're very grateful, Mr Taylor," Mikey said at once. "S'not everyone who'd be so understanding. "We're thankful alright, ain't we, Lee?"

Lee continued to stare straight ahead. "Yes."

Constantine looked thoughtfully at Mikey and Lee. "Wes and Mason aren't around for you to seek forgiveness from. But James is here."

Mikey turned at once in Rusty's direction. "I'm sorry, mate. No hard feelings, right? You know it wasn't personal. I wasn't excessive, was I? Lee's sorry too, ain't you, Lee?"

Lee's gaze finally shifted from the wall behind Constantine and he turned dark eyes on Rusty.

"I apologise for your inconvenience," he said with a brusque nod of his head.

It was a most unapologetic apology.

"That's OK," James acknowledged.

"Good." Constantine straightened up. "Tony, I want the new boys to have a tour and then get them on light duties while they're settling in."

"Yes, Mr Taylor."

Rusty realised he was still clutching the inventory paperwork. "Here." He handed it over to Constantine and added carefully, "there are some items to be moved-"

"Of course," Constantine nodded. "Tony, can you take James and look after that too?"

"Yes, Mr Taylor."

Constantine wasn't even waiting for the answer. He was confident in Tony. He wasn't even interested in Rusty. His focus was solely on Mikey and Lee.

"I'll be interested in a good report, gentlemen. Make sure I'm not disappointed."

* * *

Tony shepherded Mikey and Lee out of the office and down the corridor, Rusty following.

"We're really keen to make the right impression, Tony," Mike said eagerly. "We know by rights we could have been-"

Tony's head snapped round, halting their progress and his eyes were fierce. "Yes."

Mikey took a step backwards. "Christ," he muttered.

Tony shook himself and marched on towards the elevator where Davey was stood on duty.

"Davey, can you take these two round for me?"

Davey visibly swelled with pride. "Of course, Tony. This way, lads."

Mikey dutifully headed into the elevator after him and Lee gave Tony a dark glance and followed suit. The doors closed and Tony's shoulders sagged.

"C'mon, James. Let's take the stairs."

Rusty followed him through the doors of the stairwell and down one flight before Tony stopped on the landing, his back to Rusty.

"You OK?" Rusty frowned, walking down a couple more steps.

Tony was silent for a long moment and then turned round and Rusty could see the utter misery written through him.

"I went to Mason's funeral this morning. It's Wes' next week. They're barely cold and these guys-"

Tony punched out suddenly, his fist hitting brickwork and drawing blood and he didn't even seemed to notice.

"Mr Fitzwilliam wants to keep them around. And I get that. They know how things work. They know how things ran with Trey. But they gotta work _here_? I've gotta be pals with guys who sliced up Wes and Mason? Work with them and smile at 'em like they're my new best friends?"

There was a hammering in Rusty's head, a scream that was demanding to be let out.

Tony looked up at Rusty, with a mixture of vulnerability and grief playing out on his face. "I trust you, James. More than these guys…" He waved a disparaging hand. "You know how to handle yourself and the way you look out for Mr Taylor… You're a stand-up guy. And I'm gonna _need_ you."

Rusty's throat was tight. Words wouldn't come. He nodded automatically and Tony smiled and composed himself. He reached up and clapped Rusty on the shoulder. "Let's get to the others."

* * *

The crates were still waiting to be moved, Lloyd, Brady and Nelson were still waiting to move them.

"Alright, guys, look lively." Tony strode over and pulled out his elevator card. "You three load up. Brady, you and I'll take it up there. Two trips, I reckon."

Two trips was right. And then afterwards all five of them hit the bar next door. Tony's treat for his boys. Rusty sat between Tony and Lloyd and bit into the burger and swallowed without tasting it.

"So, we got some new guys working with us," Tony announced as the second round of beers arrived. "Lee and Mikey."

Nelson frowned. "Lee and-"

"Who worked for Trey?" Lloyd interrupted sharply. "The ones who-"

"Yeah," Tony said heavily. "Those ones. Mr Fitzwilliam's placed them here and Mr Taylor wants them looked after. Wants us to-"

"No." Brady was shaking his head. "Not gonna happen, Tony."

"After what they did, Tony-"

"Not a hope-"

"They can work with us," Nelson spoke up suddenly. He pulled a knife out and ran his thumb lightly along the blade. "Doesn't have to be permanent."

Tony reached across and wrapped his hand around Nelson's wrist. "_No._ Mr Taylor wants them looked after."

"Heard you the first time, Tony," Lloyd said. "Doesn't make it right."

Tony exhaled slowly, letting go of Nelson and sitting back in his seat.

"Look. We don't have to love the idea but this comes from Mr Taylor. Now, I'm not saying we take them out for drinks, I'm not saying they get too close to operations but we're civil. We go along with it and we do not rile them. You listening, Nelson? I don't want to hear about any accidents."

Rusty watched as one by one they all sullenly nodded. They might not like it but they'd follow Tony's lead.

"I'm gonna keep them on the fringe. Elevator duty. Running out for Mr Taylor's coffee and doughnuts. Baby-sitting Davey." That brought a chuckle. "Us, though, we stay tight."

"What about the workload, Tony?" Brady asked. "Without Wes and Mason…"

"We got James here. You all know he's good in a tight spot. He's with us. I'll clear it so that he can help out more when he's needed." Tony looked around the table. "We all good?"

The other three nodded. Tony's gaze fell on Rusty. He took a deep breath and forced James to smile assent.

"Good. Let's get another beer in before we go back."

* * *

Tony decreed that three beers excluded James from the dealers' desks. Rusty spent the afternoon out the back in the warehouse with Lloyd, cataloguing new pieces for the upcoming auction. He hadn't seen Alex at all and as he headed to their suite at the end of the day, Rusty wondered if Alex had even made it out of bed.

The suite was empty though. Rusty hit the lights and pulled the drapes across, shutting out the November darkness then checked the phone that Alex knew about. Five missed calls and a text.

"_Hi, James. Guess you're not answering your phone up today. Constantine's asked me to do a couple of pick ups. I'm going to be back late. Don't wait up. Alex x"_

The first time he read it, he didn't see it. Then he realised it wasn't just sloppy texting. Rusty sank down on the couch, staring at the message. He couldn't avoid thinking about it any longer. Alex had fallen hard and fast for James. It had been all he could do to stop Alex uttering the three little words and it was surely only a matter of time before he did and then...

"Fuck," Rusty said softly to no one.

He hadn't meant for things to get this intense. He'd been so caught up in getting to the heart of things at Larner's that he hadn't even considered that Alex would feel so strongly about him. Hell, it wasn't even supposed to be like this. James Gallagher was supposed to be a part-time lover not this full-time, live-in, work-both-sides-of-the-legal, energy-sapping, soul-sucking monster that enveloped him on all sides, leaving him struggling for air, leaving him struggling for _self._

Not forever, he told himself sternly. Focus on the end goal. Even if that meant telling Alex he loved him. Even if that meant… Rusty ran a hand over his face. Even if that meant a lot of things. Fuck, he needed a drink. He stood up and headed over to the whisky on the side, then stopped, bottle in hand.

"I love you." He tried out the words for size. They felt foreign in his mouth. He'd never loved someone like that. He'd loved Saul. He'd loved Mitch. They'd been family. He'd loved Ed even if he hadn't realised it. A different but, at the same time, exactly the same kind of caring.

"I love you," he said again.

OK. He didn't need to say the words, James Gallagher did. James Gallagher, with his laidback attitude and easy smile.

"I love you," James murmured.

Better.

"I love you," James promised and it sounded sincere to Rusty's ears. "I love you."

Just words. Only words.

Rusty glanced at the bottle of whisky in his hand. The first glass didn't touch the sides of his throat. As he was pouring his second, the door opened and Constantine walked in without invitation. Rusty saw Constantine's eyes slide down to the glass in his hand and then back up to Rusty's face. The look of knowing amusement in Constantine's expression set Rusty's teeth on edge.

"Hard day?" Constantine asked.

Weren't they all?

Constantine wasn't looking for an answer. "I just wanted to let you know that Alex isn't around tonight."

"He texted me."

"Of course. So. Are you going to go out?"

Out. In a nanosecond, the possibility of _escape_ and the thrill of _away_ and the whisper of _Danny _ran through Rusty and in the same nanosecond, the memory of the last time Alex had been away. Brady following him and watching him and reporting back.

"No," he replied. "Thought I'd get an early night."

Constantine nodded – was that approval in his eyes? "Well, we can all catch up tomorrow. It's Thanksgiving, after all. Family time. Goodnight."

The door closed behind him and Rusty stared at it for a long moment. Then he picked up the bottle of whisky and headed back to the couch.


	64. Thanksgiving

Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: didn't create Ocean's 11's myriad of wonderful characters.

Chapter Sixty-four: Thanksgiving

* * *

Rusty came to with the certain knowledge that he was dying. His skull felt like it was determined to squeeze his brain into a small lump of putty and then bludgeon it into a flat paste. Blearily, he opened his eyes and almost immediately closed them again. It felt like the end of the world had arrived overnight. And his mouth…maybe the end of the world had decided to curl up in there and die.

As the thumping in his head died down to the level of a mild rock concert, other things forced their way into his consciousness.

He was in bed.

He was naked.

He was entwined with another body and memory told him it was familiar.

Alex.

The last thing he properly remembered was being slumped on the couch with the bottle of whisky, watching some soap opera. He'd been fully dressed and on his own. How…?

Alex stirred and smiled sleepily up at him. "Hey. You're awake."

Barely.

"What time did you get back?" he asked, his voice somewhere between hoarse and husky.

Alex leant up on one elbow. "Somewhere near midnight. I found you on the couch, looking like you missed me." The smile didn't show any sign of diminishing. "Oh, _James_."

There was something in the way he said his name. What…? Rusty's memory was suddenly pushing the hangover aside and insisting on being listened to.

_He hadn't bothered with food. He'd been on the couch with the TV on and the bottle of whisky was empty. He'd drunk it far too quickly, glass after glass; he'd been looking for oblivion and he was heading there fast. (_And then…)

_Alex had appeared and he'd blinked up at him as he swam into view. (_And then…)

"_Alex..." he sighed out loud and to himself. _

"_Let's get you to bed," Alex said softly and faintly, on the periphery of his consciousness._

_Alex. Alex. Alex._

"_Alex, Alex, Alex."_

_Alex started to pull him up off the couch. _(And then…and _then_…)

"_I love you." _

_The words flew out of his mouth and he half-gasped and half-laughed._

"_What?" Alex stopped short and stared at him._

_The laugh bubbled out of him again helplessly. "I love you." _

"_You-"_

"_I love you." Three words. Only three words. I love you. I love you. I love you. Meaningless. Laughing like the best joke ever. "I love you, I love you, I love you-"_

"_OK, OK…" Alex's fingers were running through his hair and over his face and Alex's mouth was pressing little kisses along his jaw. "I heard you. I-I love you too, James…"_

_Alex's voice was far away. Darkness and peace surrounded him. He gave into it._

Rusty closed his eyes.

"It was so funny putting you to bed," Alex said fondly. "You can be remarkably uncooperative when you want to be." Fingertips trailed their way over Rusty's chest. "Not that I'm complaining. I like a challenge." Lips were pressed against his shoulder. "And just knowing that you feel that way…the same way…oh, _James. _James, you are the most wonderful man._"_

James was a stupid, careless-mouthed drunk. Rusty's eyes shot open and he sat up, carefully extracting himself from the fingers and the lips.

"I need to freshen up," he said firmly.

"Of course," Alex agreed, a little flustered. He smiled up at Rusty as Rusty got to his feet. "And then we can go watch the parade if you like. Constantine's expecting us for lunch at the Four Seasons at one. Or…or we could stay in…"

"Parade sounds great," Rusty told him quickly. "I'll be ready in ten."

* * *

The bathroom door closed behind him. Rusty turned on the shower and then gripped the sides of the washbasin tightly, glaring at himself in the mirror. Drinking to excess wasn't smart even if it sometimes was the only thing that seemed to help. Getting out of his head _here _was fucking idiotic. He'd told Alex he loved him: fuck knew what else he might have let slip. Fuck. Desperately, he searched his memory but no, he hadn't mentioned Danny or the bigger plan or the fictional nature of James Gallagher: there had just been the warm and the relaxed and the stupid beyond belief.

This wasn't like him. Nowhere close. He was smarter than this. No more heavy drinking, he told himself. It was far too dangerous to be out of control like that.

He climbed into the shower and let the warm water run over him then reached for the soap and lathered his body. Didn't feel like Alex had taken advantage of the situation last night. Didn't make him feel any more clean.

Alex was waiting for him with a large black coffee. Rusty drank it down gratefully.

"So you feel up to breakfast? You want to grab something and then go for a wander?"

James gave him a faint smile. "Sure. Sounds like a plan."

He'd managed to keep down some toast and the hangover had been helped by another three coffees. Now they were outside and walking the streets, surrounded by holiday crowds buzzing with excitement and normality.

"I'll get us some popcorn," Alex shouted in his ear and pointing at a cart. "Wait here."

Rusty waited. Families and shoppers and love and laughter surrounded him. He sighed inwardly. They didn't have Thanksgiving in Europe. It had been a while since he'd faced all this. In any case, Thanksgiving had never meant that much until he'd met Saul: no holiday had.

"_Live like there's no tomorrow, boys." _

Saul was all about the celebration because Annie had been.

…_He felt like he hadn't stopped laughing all morning. They'd all been helping with the cooking and Saul was currently wrestling a turkey into stuffing submission and thereafter into a roasting tin._

_Mitch looked up from chopping carrots. _

"_My money's on the turkey," he whispered to Rusty loud enough that Saul could hear._

_Saul gave a mock-scowl. "I'll have you know I've never lost a fight yet."_

_Rusty grinned as he cut up the yams. "Didn't know we were in the presence of the undefeated turkey wrestler of the world."_

"_Hey, Saul, we could get you a trophy."_

"_We could_ steal_ you a trophy." _

_And already Rusty was thinking about Christmas dinner and Saul walking in to the kitchen to find an award waiting for him alongside the next festive bird._

_Saul put the roasting tin into the oven and fired it up._

"_Right. Turkey's in, vegetables are all done, yes?"_

_Mitch and he had nodded._

"_Good, good. So what shall we do for the next four hours? TV and snacks, anyone?"_

_They'd watched the televised parade and they'd found "Silver Streak" playing and there had been chips and dips and cakes and candy and Saul had expressed half-hearted concern about them ruining their appetite and Mitch had laughed and Rusty had rolled his eyes with an _"As if" _written all over his face._

Same with birthdays. Same with Christmases. Happy. He'd been happy. The only occasion he could remember not being fully engaged was that Thanksgiving at Carter's place when he'd collapsed like an idiot on the kitchen floor. He'd spent the next few days in bed and out of it and he'd come to and Mitch had been in the chair beside him and had given a shout and Saul and Carter had come running and…

"_James."_

The pain in Rusty's chest was sharp and hard: he hadn't thought about this for an age.

"_James?"_

They'd made such a fuss of him without making any kind of fuss and weak as he was, he'd felt warm and safe and lov-

"James!"

Alex's concerned face suddenly came into sharp focus.

"Are you OK? Did someone say something? Did you see someone-"

"Alex," James acknowledged with a smile. "Sorry, I was out of it for a moment."

"Guess you still haven't woken up," Alex said fondly. "Here."

A loud cheer went up as the surrounding crowd spotted the start of the parade. James took the popcorn offered and Rusty turned to watch the razzamatazz. There was no Saul; there was no Mitch; and wherever the hell Carter was, Rusty only hoped he was a world away from all of this.

* * *

The large truck was waiting as Carter pulled up outside Danny's house in Vermont. A broad-shouldered man climbed down from the vehicle to greet him.

"Mr Pryce."

"Mr Yates," Carter acknowledged and they both walked up the steps to the front door.

"We're clearing the entire house," Yates checked.

"Yes. How long do you think?"

Yates considered. "I've got three guys with me so the four of us-"

"_Five_ of us," Carter corrected.

"Five of us," Yates nodded. "I'd say four hours to pack and load."

"I'll start upstairs."

Carter began with the main bedroom, carefully and efficiently packing up a married life. Danny's side of the bed and there was a selection of books, fact and fiction; a rag-rolled angle-poise lamp on the bedside table; a chest of drawers with neat rows of socks and underwear. Teresa's chest of drawers had a jewellery box full of necklaces, the priceless and the simply pretty side by side; a large doll sat in a chair in the corner; a small, pink, fluffy dog stood guard on the bedside table.

Carter picked up the ridiculous dog and stared down at it.

_A lifetime ago and Thanksgiving at Coney Island and a shooting range and he'd been utterly useless._

"_You do know you're supposed to hit the little ducks, right?" Affectionate teasing._

"_And you do know this is a con, right?"_

_And Scott had bribed the stall owner to hand over the largest stuffed toy available and…and…_

Carter shook himself. This wasn't about him. He dropped the dog in the crate and turned to the wardrobes. Was it only last week that he'd been here sorting through the clothes? Danny's suits were sober and his shirts were well made and plain. There was nothing close to Rusty's taste. Carter could still remember the shirt that couldn't make up its mind whether it was grapefruit or mandarin.

Rusty. Carter let out a sigh and a forlorn prayer that Saul's pigheaded, talented son of a…that Saul's son was being careful or that failing that, that the gods of luck and chance were looking out for him. Him and Danny both. From what he'd seen and heard, Carter wasn't that bothered about Rick.

* * *

Rick pushed the hot coffee across the table at Danny and tried his best to hide the yawn. They'd been up and at 'em early and Danny had been on a mission to cover off the first rendezvous. At least they didn't have to tail anyone from the airport: they'd headed straight to this busy café and before long, the courier had shown up, yellow rucksack and all. Rick had to hand it to Rusty – when it came to the actual information, Golden Boy was obviously being rewarded well for his services.

Not that Danny had wanted to take this opportunity. He wanted to wait and observe and they'd hunkered down at this back table and watched the people arriving. Sure enough, right on cue, the man with tattooed knuckles arrived, walking into the café and picking up a soda then crossing over to the table with the courier.

They were too far away to hear the "Alright to sit here?" but it was an obvious enough gesture. Rick turned to Danny to make some sort of crack about cheap chat up lines but Danny looked like he was in a trance. His eyes were fixed on the man with the tattoos and Danny's hands were knotted together like he was fiercely praying.

"Danny?" Rick said softly.

Danny blinked once, twice and then turned his head to Rick and for an instant, Danny's face was hard and cold and then all that melted away and it was Danny again.

"So," Danny said in a low voice, "this is how the exchanges take place. Not much time to play with so we'll have to move fast."

"We can change the stones up," Rick said eagerly. "I know a few people who'll take them. And the drugs too-"

"No," Danny said sharply. "The drugs, we destroy and the jewels…"

Danny trailed off in thought.

"They'll bring a good sum, Danny," Rick said earnestly. "They're nice pieces."

Danny started to frown and Rick added quickly, "I mean, they must be. I don't see this outfit dealing in trash."

Danny nodded, accepting.

"So the stones-"

"We're going need the jewels." His tone was final and not to be argued with and Rick wasn't going to try.

* * *

Danny's eyes followed Brady as he picked up the rucksack he hadn't walked in with and left the café. He hadn't been prepared for the adrenaline running through him. It had been all he could do not to charge forward, swinging punches, blazing accusation…

As the man disappeared from sight, he exhaled slowly and forced his fingers to unclasp. He didn't think Rick had noticed how nearly out of control he'd been and that was a good thing. Rick relied on him to be calm and sensible and to call the shots.

"You want to get some lunch?"

Rick's voice was far away and Danny forced himself back into the moment.

"I guess."

"Thanksgiving special," Rick said, grabbing a menu. "Good job we like turkey." He looked around impatiently for a waiter and then shrugged. "I'll go order and get us a couple of beers."

Danny watched Rick sidestep a few customers and head to the counter. His leg suddenly ached and he shifted in his seat, his gaze dropping down to the menu. Thanksgiving. Danny let out a shaky breath. He'd been doing his best not to think about it all day. Focusing on the pick-up had helped but somewhere at the back of his mind the significance of the date had been burning.

He closed his eyes and unbidden, the image of Teresa filled his head. Dressed in bright red and black and-

_-opening the door to Felicity who was clutching an enormous key lime pie._

"_Oh, Felicity!" Teresa said happily._

"_You're sure you want your elderly neighbour round for your first Thanksgiving in your new home?"_

_Danny grinned. "You're welcome to any and all Thanksgivings, Felicity. And when you see our elderly neighbour, you can invite them too."_

_Canute wandered in at Felicity's heels and allowed Teresa to bend down and fuss him._

"_He's very fond of you, Teresa," Felicity said and then smiled at Danny. "As am I. Of both of you."_

_Danny had helped Teresa prepare the meal and there had been turkey and trimmings and maybe not everything made it to the table at the right time but that had been part of the adventure. _

"_To finding new friends," he proposed as a toast._

"_I'll drink to that," Felicity agreed. She'd looked over at Teresa. "And what are you thankful for, my dear?"_

_Teresa's face drew into a frown of concentration and then she looked straight at Danny._

"_I'm thankful Danny took me away and looks after me. This life is much nicer."_

_Much nicer than being sold for sex. Much nicer than being treated like meat. Danny felt as if he couldn't quite catch his breath._

_Felicity was talking again. "I'm sure Danny does a wonderful job of looking after you."_

"_He does!" Teresa exclaimed enthusiastically. _

Yeah. So good a job that he'd brought death and pain to their home. So good a job... Danny blinked back the tears pricking his eyes. It was going to be like this at every time of celebration. Every Christmas, every birthday, every Thanksgiving. There was nothing to be thankful for anymore.

A beer landed in front of him and immediately proved him wrong. He smiled. There was always friendship.

* * *

They'd watched the parade and made it to the restaurant just as Constantine was taking his seat. Rusty's headache was receding and he resolved to stick to mineral water through lunch. Constantine looked amused when he turned down the wine and Rusty gritted his teeth.

The meal was just about bearable. Alex prattled on about the floats and the balloons and Patti LaBelle's singing and Constantine appeared to listen. More often than not though, Rusty felt Constantine's eyes on him, studying him. It felt like he was under the microscope even more so than usual. And Constantine seemed _wired_.

The challenge bubbled up through Rusty and he half-opened his mouth ready to demand just what the fuck was Constantine's problem. Then he remembered just in time that he was James Gallagher and taking on Constantine was career-limiting.

"Gotta use the bathroom," he muttered, excusing himself.

All he could think as he walked away was how tempting the bottle of Pinot Noir was.

* * *

Alex watched James disappear towards the restrooms, admiring the loose gait and elegant manner and, if he were honest with himself, the rear view.

"Still worth fucking then?"

He winced at the coarseness and glared at Constantine who was grinning.

"Don't talk about him like that," Alex said fiercely.

"Forgive me, little brother. I'm in a good mood and I'm just being playful. Indulge me."

Alex frowned and looked at him closely. Constantine _was_ in a good mood.

"What's happened?" he asked curiously. Was this the thing that Constantine wasn't telling him?

Constantine laughed and leaned forward across the table. "You want to take a punt on whom Mr Fitzwilliam has got lined up to take over Trey's operation?"

Alex stared stupidly at his brother. "Who?"

"You, you idiot."

Alex's eyes widened. "Me?"

Constantine nodded. "Way I see it, Mr Fitzwilliam's letting the dust settle a bit and then you're up and running."

"But-but-I don't know enough about what Trey did! I couldn't run… Where would I start?"

"Alex." Constantine's voice was harsh. "Stop panicking. Obviously, you'll take Trey's men with you. And I'll probably give you Davey too."

"What about Tony?" Alex asked automatically. He knew whom he'd rather have alongside him in a fight.

Constantine gave him a sly look. "Well, I think you've got your _own_ Tony."

Alex didn't understand and then he did.

"James…?" he whispered.

Constantine nodded.

"I've given Mr Fitzwilliam a glowing report on how he reacted at the airport. And the other week with that group of boys. You have to admit, Alex, he's like your own personal bodyguard." He lit up a cigar and blew out a ring of smoke. "Guess he thinks the fucking's worth it too."

Alex ignored him. "What did Mr Fitzwilliam say exactly?"

Constantine shrugged. "Mr Fitzwilliam's really taken a shine to James. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd sent orchids to welcome him back after Trey snatched him."

Alex waved an impatient hand. "What did Mr Fitzwilliam say about me taking over Trey's territory?"

Constantine blew another smoke ring.

"He has indicated to me that he would like to have someone in place by the New Year. And after I talked to him about how devoted James is to you, he said he thought you two made a good couple. He is thinking of promoting you and _that_ would be one in the eye for Lyle." Constantine jabbed the cigar in Alex's direction. "So don't go breaking up with James."

"I love him," Alex said softly. "And he loves me. He told me last night."

He had. And even if James had been drinking, well, they said _"in vino veritas"_, didn't they?

The smile bloomed on Constantine's face.

"Good." He looked up and saw James walking back to them and the smile deepened. "I guess we both know what we're thankful for."

* * *

_**SomeTime…SomeWhere…**_

"It could be."

The words hung between them. The words were a statementpromiseoffertruthpossibility.

Today, she was sporting tightly plaited blonde hair, worn up in a regal style and her dress was diamond-ice.

"It could be," he said again. "With a certain realignment of self, he could succeed within that organisation."

He made a precise gesture and a bubble of suggestion appeared, full of power and control and self-hate and resignation aplenty.

She reached out and held the bubble, studying it, turning it over in her hand as if considering.

"He would be protected. He would be safe."

"And the other?"

Her voice was cool and matter-of-fact and completely rhetorical: they both knew the answer to that and therefore they both knew the answer to this. She lifted her unblinking silver-eyed gaze to his.

"No," she replied, crushing the bubble out of existence.

* * *

The look on Constantine's face was nearly enough to stop Rusty in his tracks. That mixture of the predatory and the possessive… There was something behind it that he just couldn't work out and thinking about it was making his head hurt.

He sank down in his chair and did his best not to look in the direction of the red wine. Right now, he felt he could cheerfully finish off the bottle. Instead, he picked up the glass of mineral water, took a long drink from it and made James flash a look of affection in Alex's direction.

"Want to say what you're thankful for, James?" Constantine drawled, puffing on his cigar.

James smiled warmly at Alex. "I would have thought that was obvious."

Alex squeezed his hand and Constantine chuckled knowingly.

Rusty looked down at his fingers laced together with Alex's. He could play the game. He could handle Constantine. It was just for a little while longer.


End file.
